So We Go
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: 100 drabbles about different pairings:: 1. Years after the war, Harry is haunted, but Ginny is by his side
1. Middle of the Night (HarryGinny)

_Word Count: 485_

* * *

If he's honest, Harry hates himself for being so weak. He wakes, bolting upright and drenched in a cold sweat. It takes several seconds for his heartbeat to slow to a normal rate and for him to register that he's in his bedroom, that he's safe.

He's had the nightmares for more than a decade. Those lost in the battle haunt him, chasing him down crumbling castle corridors and demanding to know why he didn't save them. He never has an answer; all he can ever do is beg for forgiveness before waking up with a panic attack

With nothing else to do, he climbs out of bed. Ginny is still sleeping. Good. At least she can be oblivious to his demons. The last thing he wants is for someone to worry about him.

He makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet. It's reserved for special occasions, but Harry sometimes uses it as a way to numb the pain. He doesn't drink enough to mess himself up, just enough to take the edge off.

"Nightmares again?" Ginny asks as Harry takes his first sip.

He looks up, frowning. "I thought you were asleep."

His wife shakes her head and sits across from him. "I'm just good at being really quiet," she tells him. "I used to pretend to sleep so I could eavesdrop on my brothers."

Harry snorts. "Are you sure you weren't a Slytherin?"

It isn't enough to distract her. Ginny turns the conversation back to him, and Harry tries not to be resentful. "I know it was hard on you. The fact that you're alive is a miracle."

He knocks back his drink, relishing the burn as it goes down. He doesn't want to talk about miracles. It's all anyone has seemed to want to talk about over the past twelve years. He knows how lucky he is. He knows they look at him as the savior of the wizarding world, and they still worship him like he's some sort of god.

He knows and he hates it. What about Fred or Remus or Colin? What about any of countless people who have died? It isn't fair that he's alive and they aren't. Harry never asked for this.

And just like that, the tears begin to fall, and he realizes how bloody tired he is. Tired of nightmares. Tired of guilt. Tired just being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Ginny's arms are around him in an instant. He didn't even see her get up. The glass falls from his hand, shattering on the kitchen floor, but neither of them move to pick up the shards. "It's okay," she tells him. "It's going to be okay."

He isn't sure if he believes her, but he wants to so badly. Harry rests her head against her chest and takes a deep breath. They'll find a way.


	2. Reassurance (DeanSeamus)

_Word Count: 313_

* * *

Seamus appears in the doorway, clad in his dark blue pajamas. He yawns and rubs his eyes. "Dean, come back to sleep. It's the middle of the night, and I can't sleep without you."

Dean knows that isn't quite true. There have been plenty of times he's found his boyfriend sleeping so deeply that a parade couldn't even wake him. He doesn't point this out though. Instead, he just smiles. "Sorry," he says. "I have a lot on my mind."

He sets his pencil down, studying his drawing. Seamus' face peers up at him from the page, rendered in granite. He's always loved drawing Seamus. While on the run during the war, it was the only thing that made him feel halfway sane.

"Not getting cold feet, are you?" Seamus asks.

Dean laughs. _Cold feet. _He wonders if Seamus knows exactly how ridiculous that is. _Cold feet _implies someone is having doubts or concerns, but Dean definitely isn't. He can still remember being eleven years old and realizing he loves his best friend. He's never been more certain about his feelings for anyone or anything.

"You actually want to marry me?" Dean finally manages looking away from the sketchbook and focusing on the real Seamus in front of him.

Seamus laughs like Dean has told the funniest joke and makes his way closer, sitting next to Dean and resting his head on his shoulder. "Of course I want to marry you. I wouldn't have asked it I didn't."

Dean sighs, and the relief he feels at that reassurance is honestly ridiculous. He shouldn't doubt Seamus' love. They've been through so much together, and they are unbreakable.

"Are my eyebrows really that thick?" Seamus asks, tapping his finger against the sketch.

Dean chuckles. "Was drawing from memory," he says, kissing Seamus' forehead before climbing to his feet. "Come on. Let's go back to bed."


	3. Warmest Hope (LuciusNarcissa)

_Word Count: 460_

* * *

She hates it here, but she does not complain. At the end of the day, she would walk through hell if it meant seeing her husband. Truth be told, Azkaban is close enough to some miserable pit of eternal damnation.

Narcissa shudders as she is lead deeper through the prison. The Auror guiding her along has assured her that the Dementors will not harm her, but that doesn't help. Their chill still sinks beneath her skin, penetrating her bones and freezing the marrow within. She pulls her cloak tighter, quickening her pace.

"You know the rules," the Auror tells her without looking at her for her confirmation. "Be brief."

Narcissa rushes to the bars, a flood of relief washing over her. Lucius no longer looks like _her _Lucius. His hair is tangled and has lost its shine, there's stubble on his face, and the dark circles under his eyes give him the look of a dead man. Still, despite it all, he is still here. It's a small, almost bitter hope.

She doesn't even realize silent tears have been falling until her eyes begin to sting. Narcissa wipes them away, her lips forming a smile. "Lucius…"

He smiles at her. It isn't the warm, radiant smile she knows and loves; his chapped lips crack, making him wince, but she can still see the happiness in his eyes. Narcissa is his only source of joy anymore.

"Cissa," he says fondly as he climbs to his feet. His movements are slow and stiff, and she can see how each step pains him, but he moves closer until he reaches the bars. "It has been far too long."

It's been less than a week, but she doesn't tell him that. Azkaban can mess with the mind. She can't even imagine how close he is to breaking.

"Everything will be okay, my love," she tells him.

She can't go into detail. Truthfully, she knows so little, only the few scraps of information the Dark Lord has offered her. She knows the Death Eaters in Azkaban will not be forgotten. While, for the most part, that news is terrifying, it gives her hope to know Lucius will come back to her.

"We're going to be a family again," he agrees, reaching through the bars and taking her hand.

And just like that, it's over. The Auror rushes in, quickly separating the two of them and reciting the prison's no touching policy. Narcissa wants to push the woman away, but she keeps her head held high. No need to cause a scene. Things will look up soon enough.

"Until next time, my love," she says.

As she walks through the prison once again, she is so alive with hope that she barely notices the chill anymore.


	4. Ice Cream and New Perspectives (Jily)

_Word Count: 385_

* * *

"Am I dreaming?"

Lily bites back a groan and tries to focus on her chocolate-dipped raspberry and coconut ice cream cone. James Potter is just an unfortunate inconvenience. She doesn't have to entertain him.

Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she's blatantly ignoring him, James sits in the seat beside her at the counter. "Chocolate and marshmallow sundae, please," he says, placing his money on the counter. "Extra cherries."

Florean Fortescue nods. "The usual," he chuckles before setting about making the sweet treat.

James returns his attention to Lily. Lily stares pointedly at her cone. If she ignores him, maybe he'll go away.

"Tell me, Evans, what are the chances that you and I would both happen to be in this ice cream parlor today?"

"Since it looks like half the school is getting their shopping done today," she says, "I would guess pretty likely."

She hates herself for talking to him. As soon as the answer has left her lips, she waits for the fallout. James will assume she's interested in having a conversation, and nothing she says will convince him otherwise.

"I dunno, Evans," he says. "Diagon Alley is an awfully big place. If you ask me, we were destined to run into each other."

"Or, more likely, you followed me around and decided this would be the best spot."

"You wound me."

Lily frowns. He doesn't seem to be trying to go out of his way to annoy her. That's new.

"What will it take for you to let me buy you lunch?" he asks. "Not today, since you've undoubtedly ruined it with ice cream. Tomorrow?"

What's with this change? She isn't used to seeing him soft like this. Where is his arrogance, and why is he looking at her like that? She wishes he would stop. It makes her want to give in.

"I'm busy tomorrow," she says. "How about Wednesday?"

James grins, and the arrogance is back in his handsome features. "Splendid! Wednesday is perfect. I promise you won't regret."

He jumps from his seat, clapping victoriously as Florean brings his sundae. "She said yes!"

Lily watches, fighting back a smile. Maybe, at the very least, it will help James get this silly crush out of his system. Deep down, though, she has a feeling that Wednesday will change everything.


	5. Brevity (WalburgaDruella)

_Word Count: 358_

* * *

Slipping away without notice is easier than Walburga would have guessed. Her father usually likes to keep a close eye on her, even though she's seventeen and grown. When the opportunity arrives, she steps into the crowd, easily getting lost in the sea of people until she reaches Flourish and Blotts.

Her family isn't around. She wonders if anyone has noticed her absence yet. She will have to be quick.

She enters the bookstore, waving away the assistant who hurries to greet her. Her mother has already collected her books for the school year. For Walburga, there is something much more interesting hidden within the aisles.

"You're late," Druella says, lips pursing as Walburga approaches.

Walburga shrugs. "Between my father and your future husband watching me, you're lucky I made it at all."

Her lover doesn't like that. _Future husband. _Walburga remembers the day the engagement was officially arranged. Perhaps it isn't her brother's fault, but she has yet to forgive him for taking the only person Walburga has ever loved.

"Yeah, he's not the choice I would have gone with," Druella says, bitterness saturating her words. "He's a brute, and I would much rather have someone less… _male_."

Walburga nods, unsure what to say. Her own engagement has been arranged as well. There isn't a way for them, except running away together. It's tempting, but she isn't sure she can bring herself to do it. In the end, she has to be a good daughter and do what is expected of her.

"I love you," Walburga whispers.

Druella smiles at that. "I love you more."

"There you are!" Cygnus hurries forward, dark eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"I was lost," Walburga says simply. "I came here because we need books."

"Mother already got those for you." He doesn't even spare Druella a glance. He is just as reluctant to marry her as she is him. "Come along before Father gets angry."

Walburga has no choice but to follow along. Still, as she allows her brother to lead her from the shop, she smiles. Her time with Druella is always short, but she wouldn't trade it for the world.


	6. Follow (RegulusRabastan)

Word Count: 435

* * *

Regulus wonders how Rabastan always manages to find his little hiding places. By now, it's hardly a surprise when his smoke breaks are interrupted by the older boy's intrusion. Today, when the classroom door opens, he doesn't even look up.

"That's honestly a bit rude," he says, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"And that's a disgusting habit." Rabastan nods at the cigarette in Regulus' hand, his lips twisting into a scowl to emphasize his disdain. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"As if my mother knows what affection is," Regulus says dryly. He may be his mother's favorite, but that doesn't mean the feeling is mutual. "What do you want?"

Rabastan sits across from him, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "Your neutrality is a bit concerning."

"My what?"

"It's obvious that your brother has chosen a side in this war. Where do you stand?" Rabastan asks.

The question catches him off guard. Regulus does not have the same luxury his cousin has. Narcissa can remain neutral because those closest to her are not. But Regulus? Regulus has to make his own choices, and he hates it. He wants to remain neutral.

That isn't an option. It's become even more urgent now that Sirius has been disowned. All eyes seem to be on him.

"Why do you care so much?" Regulus asks.

Rabastan snorts. "Merlin, you really are a bloody idiot."

Regulus scoffs. The last thing he needs is a Lestrange casting judgment on his intelligence. He avoids responding by taking another drag.

"I fancy you, stupid," Rabastan says.

Regulus chokes on his smoke, his throat suddenly dry and burning, eyes watering. He pulls out his wand and manages to croak Aguamenti, sipping from the thin stream that erupts from his wand tip. "You what?"

"How was it not obvious?"

Maybe it is. It would explain why Rabastan always seems to be around him.

"I want to protect you," Rabastan says silently. "Join the Dark Lord with me."

Why is it so tempting? Regulus doesn't truly believe in the Death Eaters' cause. Truth be told, he doesn't care either way.

But there's something far too appealing about being by Rabastan's side. Maybe there's a part of him that has always wondered what it would be like to be with him, but he's always pushed them away. A Black has no right to think about such things.

Now, the words fall so easily from his lips, and he speaks them without doubt. "I will follow you," he says.

He doesn't believe in the cause, but it doesn't matter. At least Rabastan will be there.


	7. Closing Time (CorneliusRosmerta)

_Word Count: 518_

* * *

"I'm closing up," Rosmerta says, keeping her back turned when she hears the door open. She silently scolds herself for not locking up sooner.

"I don't suppose you can serve a disgraced former Minister, then."

Rosmerta turns. A hint of a smile tugs at her lips when she sees Cornelius standing there. He's had his fair share of struggle and scandal, but she's always happy to see him… More happy than she would ever like to admit.

"I can make an exception," she decides, waving her wand. The door locks, and she summons a bottle of Ogden's Icegin.

"You know me too well, my dear."

Rosmerta prepares the drink and serves it before leaning against the bar. She waits in silence. It has been far too long since she's seen him. His resignation was announced three months ago, and she thinks that's around the last time.

"You're judging me."

She wants to deny it, but she can't quite bring herself to do it. "Perhaps."

He looks up, eyes narrowing. "What was I supposed to do? Do you think I wanted You-Know-Who to be back?" He takes a deep swallow of his drink. "I had it under control."

She wonders how he can be so stubborn. His stubbornness is exactly what's lead to all of this. If he hadn't spent his time trying to discredit Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, things could be different.

But what does she know? Who is she to try and act as an advisor. It doesn't matter that she was a Ravenclaw and top of her year, or that she has spent years listening to people discussing the most intricate workings of the political system. She is still a barmaid, and no one cares what she has to say.

"I swear your pride will be the death of all," she says. "It very nearly could have been."

"It was a mistake." His voice is soft, barely audible. Cornelius quickly drains the last of his drink. "It was a mistake, but how could I admit it? What would people think?"

She snorts. "If you wanted everyone to adore you, politics was not the right career path."

"Not everyone," he says, looking up. "Just you."

She feels a lump in her throat and quickly swallows it down. How did they get here, from his mistakes to… this?

"Another glass?" she asks.

Cornelius laughs and shakes his head. "Is it really that hard for you to accept?"

"I never said it was hard." She shrugs. "Just unexpected. I'm not even sure how to respond."

"Dinner is a good answer," he says. "Though, truth be told, I understand if you wouldn't want to be seen with someone like me."

Rosmerta sighs. She's always admired him, though she would never have admitted it. In those days, he was a powerful man, and she was a woman who was easily overlooked.

"I can have Henry tend the bar tomorrow night," she tells him. "Dinner sounds lovely."

Cornelius' eyes widen as he searches her face, seeming to look for a punchline. Finding none, he nods. "I suppose it's a date then."


	8. Flaws and All (Wolfstar)

_Word Count: 432_

* * *

Remus comes out of the shower, clothed and with a towel wrapped around his wet hair, singing softly under his breath as he enters the kitchen. Breakfast is ready and waiting for him. It isn't anything special, but Sirius makes an amazing toast and egg plate.

"You always do that," Sirius says, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Do what?"

"When you come out of the shower, you're always singing that sad song."

Remus snorts. He doesn't understand why Sirius is so bothered by it. While Remus doesn't have the most amazing singing voice, he isn't _terrible. _Maybe it's the song choice, but Remus will not change his tune.

"Look." Sirius pushes the parchment forward. "Here is an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements."

"Sweet Merlin." Remus rolls his eyes. He doesn't even bother to look at the list. "We haven't even known each for thirty years. We're only _eighteen_!"

Sirius shrugs. "Yeah, maybe, but that's not the point. Come on, Moony. We've been dating for two years. Are you really telling me I don't do anything that annoys you?"

That isn't the case at all. Remus could easily list thousands of things that his boyfriend does that annoys him. Just the other day, he climbed into bed while wearing sweaty, smelly socks and didn't seem to understand why Remus didn't want to cuddle.

But there's a difference.

Remus deflates slightly. "I would never keep a bloody list of your bad habits. I knew you were flawed when we started dating," he says. "I love you, even if you do things that annoy me."

Sirius laughs, causing Remus to frown. What could possibly be so funny? He'd meant every word of what he said, and it hurts that Sirius would actually laugh at that.

"Read the list."

Remus scowls. "I don't want to."

"Quit being a stubborn bastard and read the damn list," Sirius insists, and he gives Remus that smile that is so hard to resist.

Remus picks up the parchment, eyes scanning over the messy words. "'Can't hug me when he's in werewolf form. Falls asleep early so I can't stay up talking to him all night.'"

And the list goes on like that. Silly things that have nothing to do with _him_. Remus blushes. "You… don't hate my singing?"

"Of course not! I just needed an excuse to show you this."

Laughing, Remus sets the list aside and moves closer, wrapping his arms around Sirius. "Oops."

Sirius leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Remus' lips. "You really think I'm flawed?"

"Shut up and kiss me again."


	9. Found (RonLavender)

_Word Count: 346_

* * *

"What's this?" Ron asks when the numbers on his wrist begin to glow with warmth, drawing his attention to the fact that they're nearly at a zero. "What does this mean?"

But he already knows; his mind just has trouble wrapping around the possibility that, at age eleven, here at Hogsmeade station, preparing to cross the lake to the school for the first time, he might meet his soulmate. Sure, over the past week or so, he's thought the countdown looked strangely close to the end, and he knows his parents met in the same way, but it's still so much.

"How much longer?" Harry asks?

"Twelve… eleven… ten…"

He thinks he might pass out. What if he meets her, and she hates him?

"Six…"

"Five," a girl's voice says. "Four… I can't believe it's happening."

Ron looks up the moment his countdown ends, and his heart skips a bit. Finding his soulmate is one thing. Learning that she is absolutely beautiful and has the warmest smile is something else entirely. He takes a deep breath, still trying to make sense of this revelation.

"I'm Ron," he tells her. "I think I'm your soulmate."

"Lavender," she says, tucking her honey-blonde curls behind her ear. A soft blush paints her cheeks. "It's nice to meet you."

Ron doesn't know what happens next. Are they supposed to fall in love instantly? She's lovely and all, but he doesn't even know what _that _sort of love feels like. Should he kiss her? He's never done that before. Why don't they tell kids these things? It would make this so much easier.

If Lavender is having the same difficulties, she doesn't show it. Instead, she reaches out and takes his hand. "You can sit with me in the boat, if you'd like." She offers Harry a smile. "Your friend can come too."

As they walk away from the station, Ron glances down at their hands. The zeroes on their wrists, so close that they're almost touching, is all the proof he needs. He has found the girl he's destined for.


	10. Denying Desire (RegulusLily)

_Word Count: 508_

* * *

She's done. As the music begins in the reception hall, Lily can't help but smile. She is officially Lily Potter. She removes her veil shoes, setting them at hers and James' table before walking around the room, chatting and accepting congratulations and advice.

Her smile doesn't last long. As she stops to chat with Alice and Frank, something outside catches her attention. Regulus is there, leaning against a tree, visible only by the moon's milky glow and the red ember in his cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me," she says, nodding to her friends before walking off.

She catches her husband's arm. "I'm going for a quick walk," she tells him. "Just need to clear my head."

James grins before kissing her forehead. "Hurry back. I'm afraid Sirius might beat us to the cake."

She offers him a smile, wondering if it looks as flimsy as it feels. With that, she turns and walks out, careful to keep her pace slow and steady. If anyone suspects something is wrong, they will pursue her, and this is not a conversation Lily wants to have right now. Out of sight of the guests at the reception, she moves with an angry urgency.

"You slimy toad!" she snaps. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I come in peace." Regulus talese one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground. "I wanted to see you."

She laughs. "You are the worst, Regulus."

He doesn't seem to hear her. Well, more likely, he doesn't care. He just smiles at her. "You make such a beautiful bride. Then again, is that surprising? There isn't anything ugly about you."

Her eyes flicker to the visible Dark Mark on his forearm. "I wish I could say the same about you."

It's what has lead to this. In the end, she couldn't save him from the call of darkness. He made his choice; she made hers. Love was not enough to save them.

Regulus steps closer. "Tell me you don't still love me, my sweet flower," he says, reaching out and ghosting his fingers down her neck.

She bites back a moan, closing her eyes. James doesn't touch her like this. She would never doubt her husband's love, but he loves her in a softer way. Regulus was the one to bring out the fire and passion in her.

She opens her eyes and steps away. Yes, she still wants him, but that's exactly why she needs to get away from him. Giving in to this desire can only end in tragedy.

"Goodbye, Regulus," she says.

She doesn't wait for his reply. She turns and walks away, taking a deep there will always be a part of her that longs for him, but it doesn't matter. They have chosen their paths. Nothing can change that.

"You okay?" James asks.

Lily throws her arms around him, holding him close and kissing him fiercely. She doesn't care that people are watching. She has to get Regulus out of her head.

"Better," she tells him.


	11. Changes Over Tea (TedAndromeda)

_Word Count: 504_

* * *

Andromeda lingers outside the little tea shop, praying for the courage to to inside. Ted is in there; this is as public as they've ever dared to be. With her final days at Hogwarts swiftly approaching, it feels like her destiny is unrolling before her eyes, waiting for her to take the first step.

She takes a deep breath. Why did Ted have to choose Madam Puddifoot's? The place is a nightmare. Still, if they're going to make their intentions known, she supposes there's no better place. Couples only go to the cozy, obnoxious place if they want the world to know.

She steps inside, all her anxiety leaving the moment she sees Ted. Her lips tug into a grin, and she hurries forward, taking a seat across from him.

"I took the liberty of ordering for you " he tells her. "Earl grey, two sugars, with a raspberry scone on the side."

She smiles. "You know me too well."

"I should hope so. It's been two years, Andi."

She laughs at that, shaking her head. It feels like longer. Maybe it _would _be longer, but they always had to worry about her sisters. Not that it matters anymore. Even with Bellatrix gone, Narcissa can still see them and write home.

Andromeda doesn't care. Let her family find out. She has made her choice, and nothing will make her change her mind.

"What are you thinking about?" Ted asks.

"I love my sisters more than anything in this life," she tells him. "I always put their happiness before my own, and it feels strange to put myself first for once."

He reaches across the table, taking her hand. There's something soft and kind in his eyes that almost breaks her heart. Relief? Maybe that's it. Maybe there's a part of him that's worried she wouldn't choose him.

"You're sure?"

Andromeda nods, laughing softly. "I've never been more sure about anything."

"Good." He swallows dryly and gives her hand a squeeze. "Because I… I love you, Andi. So bloody much. I don't have a ring yet. My mum is trying to get in touch with my aunt to see if she will let me have Gran's ring."

_Ring. _Of course Andromeda understands why he would need a ring, but her mind still struggles to comprehend it.

"I want to marry you," he says.

She doesn't have to think about it. "Yes," she answers without even a second's hesitation.

And as their tea and scones arrive, Andromeda can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change. She had planned to start a new beginning today by admitting her feelings for Ted to the world. Now, it's gone so far beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

Maybe she should be terrified. Her parents will find out, and she knows her father will be all too happy to blast her from the tapestry.

She isn't afraid. If she has to make sacrifices to achieve her own happiness, so be it. She has Ted. Everything else can wait.


	12. Choices (BellatrixAlice)

_Word Count: 323_

_Note: I really hate dialogue only, but points are points._

* * *

"Join me, Alice. If you do, we won't have to keep this a secret anymore. Won't that be nice?"

"Bella…"

"Oh, don't look at me like that! Can you really say you're surprised? Your skill is inimitable! No one could ever challenge you. You're exactly what the Dark Lord is looking for."

"You know what I believe."

"I know. But you have to understand that you're making a mistake! The Dark Lord will reward you. What will resisting get you?"

"A clear conscience, for one. I just… Shit!"

"Are you okay, my love?"

"I'm fine. The lighting startled me."

"If you joined me, Alice, you would never have to be afraid of a storm. You would be able to share my bed and fall asleep in my arms every night."

"Are you telling me you can fight lightning now?"

"Funny. Now you're just being deliberately obtuse."

"Bella…. I don't know why you're still pushing this. I cannot sacrifice my morals!"

"Not even for love?"

"If you truly loved me, you would not ask me to."

"This is the only way we can stay together. Once we leave Hogwarts and I take the Dark Mark, you and I will be enemies if you don't join me! Do you honestly think I want to face you on battle, Alice? Do you think I want to have to worry that you're going to get yourself killed by being so bloody noble?"

"Then why not choose a different path? Just because you're expected to follow him doesn't mean you have to. Choose for yourself."

"I… Well, I don't really know how. My parents… They've always planned everything for me. It's always about them. How can I choose something else when I know following the Dark Lord will make them proud?"

"What about you? What about your happiness?"

"I like it when you hold my hand like that."

"You can choose something else."

"I… I choose you, Alice."


	13. Royal Antics (SiriusMarlene)

_Word Count: 519_

Royalty!au

* * *

Marlene still can't quite comprehend the sight before her. In her three years as the royal family's Healer, she's never seen anything like this. Sure, she's saved Prince Regulus from a poison plot, and King Orion is alive because she managed to heal his wounds after a spear incident while hunting, but this one is something else.

Prince Sirius is on the table, unconscious. There's a trail of blood coming from his hairline, and a fork has found it's way into his hand.

"Do I even want to ask?"

Prince Regulus shrugs. "Our cousin and her husband are visiting. My brother never did care for Baron Malfoy. They quarreled over dinner." His lips quirk into a small smile. "You ought to see Lucius."

"This won't take long," she assures him. "You're free to wait outside."

The prince doesn't need further prompting. With one last glance at his brother, her turns and walks away.

At least the wounds are simple enough, even if the circumstances are not. She makes quick work of it. The bleeding around his hairline is easy to mend, though he already has a nasty knot forming. The fork is a little harder, but at least it isn't too deep; she gets it out and cleans it, relieved that it won't cause nerve damage.

She quickly fixes a concoction of herbs and holds it under his nose. Prince Sirius blinks awake and grins at her. "That bastard must have killed me. How else do you explain the presence of an angel?"

Marlene rolls her eyes. She's heard stories of how smooth the elder prince is, though she's never experienced it for herself. Instead of commenting, she says, "Your brother is quite loyal to you. He brought you in and has been waiting for you."

"Oh, if you only knew." Sirius climbs to his feet, still grinning. "It was actually his idea."

"What was?"

His grin stretches so much that Marlene is afraid he might strain a muscle in his jaw. He looks so proud of himself too. "Everyone knows Lucius has a ferocious temper. Just a little poke and nudge, and having Regulus ready to pull me out before I got killed! Mind, I _did _ruin dinner."

Marlene blinks rapidly, trying to comprehend it. She shakes her head, a nervous laugh bubbling from her lips. "Are you telling me you deliberately got stabbed?"

"Well, that was a bit of a surprise. As was being struck with a dinner plate… Bad timing, I suppose."

"Why?"

He closes the distance between them, though he still gives her spade. "I was hoping you would do me the honors of having breakfast with me in the morning. There's a beautiful spot by palace lake."

She laughs again, stronger and more genuine now. She's read romance novels about men getting up to absurd antics in hopes of winning the girl's heart, but she never thought she'd actually witness it. Moreover, she never thought _she'd _be the girl or that her admirer would be a prince.

Logic tells her to send him on his way; books tell another story. "I would love to."


	14. Offer (OrionTom)

_Word Count: 338_

Orion swallowed dryly, pausing to look in the window of a shop. He doesn't actually care for the gold mask which promises to curse any home it ever hangs in, and the dust that streaks the window and gives the store a grey appearance is nauseating. Still, he doesn't want to look Alley has a reputation for catering to a certain type of people; he doesn't need to draw attention to himself.

"Bit of a dreary meeting place, wouldn't you say?"

He sees Tom's reflection in the shop window, and his heart flutters. Orion turns. The other boy is clutching Orion's letter.

Orion tries to speak, but words fail. His tongue suddenly feels too thick, too heavy, and he can't remember how words work.

Tom simply smirks. "Take a walk with me."

Obediently, Orion follows. Truth be told, he would follow Tom to the end of the world without hesitation. He doesn't know why. It isn't as though he is attracted to men, but Tom is special. His eyes seem to always pierce Orion's defenses and leave him utterly helpless.

"I must say I was surprised," Tom tells him as they walk along the alley. "I have never received a love letter."

Orion's cheeks burn. It was such a foolish thing to do. Is Tom mocking him now? He can't be sure; the other boy's features are stony and impossible to read.

"You know I can never love you back, don't you?"

"You could pretend." Orion hates how pathetic the words sound. He wants to say something better, but he's at a loss.

Tom pauses, causing Orion to do the same. "And why would I do that?"

What does Orion have to offer that Tom could want? As a Black, he has gold and influence and power, but that would crumble if his parents ever found out. Individually, Orion has nothing. Except…

"Loyalty. Undying and unquestioning loyalty," Orion says.

Tom considers this in silence for several moments before nodding. "I believe we could make that work."


	15. Fire and Dates (CharlieDraco)

_Word Count: 533_

* * *

It happens in a flash. One moment, Paulette, the latest Welsh Green baby, has her full attention on Charlie. Feeding time is always the easiest time to distract them. For the briefest of moments, the dragons aren't concerned with anything other than the free meat.

Then there's the faintest sound, and Paulette changes. Charlie barely has time to register the aggression in her posture before lunges, fire streaming from her mouth.

Heart racing as he realizes she's attacked someone, Charlie acts as quickly as he can, sending up a distress signal before doing everything in his power to subdue her. Dragons aren't easy. Even baby dragons are trouble more often than they aren't. Paulette loses interest quickly enough, and the fear fades. She huffs and returns to her plate of meat.

Charlie rushes over to the fallen man, swearing under his breath. Of course it would happen to Malfoy. Even if he's grown up now, Charlie has heard enough stories about the little jerk. What's to keep him from trying to have the sanctuary closed down?

"You… You saved me," Draco says, sitting up with some difficulty.

Charlie frowns. It's a good thing Paulette is so young. Draco will have a few light burns, and his robes will be mended, but it isn't a big deal. At least the younger man is a Healer, so he already knows how to tend to his own wounds. He's already digging for burn paste in his robes.

"Right." Charlie nods. "I'll just leave you to it."

"Weasley, wait!"

Charlie pauses, brows raised. It isn't like he and Draco talk, so why should they start now? There's nothing to stop him from just walking off, but curiosity gets the better of him. "Yeah?"

At first, Draco doesn't speak. His attention is fixed on the thick paste as he rubs it on his skin. The silence begins to feel tense after several seconds of it.

"I… Well, I was actually coming out to ask you if you were busy Saturday."

This day just makes less and less sense. Talking is one thing; does Draco actually want to hang out? Maybe Charlie should tell him no, but there's something endearing about the hope in Draco's pale eyes. "Nothing planned, other than my usual morning stroll."

Draco nods, pale cheeks glowing a soft pink. It seems strange to think that this is the same arrogant git Ron and the twins hated so much. His arrogance seems to be a thing of the past. Charlie has only ever seen him like this: vulnerable, uncertain, human.

"Would you like to get coffee with me?" Draco tucks the burn paste back in his pocket before examining his already-healing burns. "As… Well, as a date?"

The rejection is on the tip of Charlie's tongue, but he doesn't see a reason to let it out. Draco isn't the same person his brothers knew. Why should Charlie base his decision on a man who doesn't even exist anymore? Maybe he's still rough around the edges and learning to grow, but he has always been kind to Charlie. Besides, he would be lying if he said Draco isn't attractive.

Charlie grins. "Noon sound good?"

"It's a date."


	16. Strike (AlbusScorpius)

_Word Count: 404_

* * *

"You cheated," Albus says, folding his arms over his chest as the screen overhead displays a giant X to signify a strike.

Scorpius laughs before reaching down and grabbing the red bowling ball. "Am not," he says. "You're up."

Albus frowns. It really isn't fair. How in the world could Scorpius be good at a Muggle activity like bowling? Albus had hoped to bring his boyfriend to the bowling alley Aunt Hermione has taken him to in the past, and spend the evening impressing him with his skills. As it happens, Scorpius is a natural, and Albus is trying so hard not to be bitter.

"I think they have nachos at the concession stand," Scorpius says, licking his lips. "Mind if I grab some?"

"Do whatever you want," Albus says with a sigh. "I'm super dead."

_Dead _doesn't quite cover it. Albus has bowled too many gutter balls for comfort. He's done this thousands of times; just last week, Rose and Hugo came with him so he could perfect his game. Now, he looks like an amateur.

With a heavy sigh, Albus sends the ball across the line in a blur of red. The pins fall in a way that leaves Albus in need of a split. Not that it matters. Scorpius is too far ahead of him for it to even matter.

"Everything okay?" Scorpius pops a cheesy nacho into his mouth as Albus retrieves his ball.

Albus starts to deny it, but he remembers what Aunt Hermione has told him countless times. Bottling things up inside is bad. He needs to be honest. He returns the ball.

"I just wanted to impress you," Albus admits.

Scorpius' brows raise. "Impress me? You brought me _here_," he says. "Have you seen this place, Al? It's amazing!"

That isn't quite what Albus meant, but it helps. Part of him had been afraid Scorpius would laugh at this sort of place. What sort of Malfoy would willingly come here? But Scorpius actually likes it? Maybe Albus has done something right.

"Tell you what," Scorpius says, eating another nacho. "Loser buys dinner."

"There's only two left," Albus says dryly. "And you have nachos!"

"Dessert?"

Albus rolls his eyes. "Dessert," he echoes in agreement before grabbing the ball again.

Maybe he still hasn't found something he's better at than Scorpius, but it's okay. In the end, they're both happy and living their best lives. What more could he ask for?


	17. Finding Home (BartyLuna)

_For Sophie_

_Word Count: 549_

* * *

It's hard to control his fury. Why does it have to be like this? In the final battle, he had spared the girl. In a moment of weakness, Barty had taken pity on her. He could have easily dealt the killing blow. Instead, he scooped Luna Lovegood into his arms and ran.

It's been three years since that day. The Dark Lord is victorious, but Barty can not enjoy it. Though his former master had spared Barty from the Dementor's kiss, Barty would no longer be welcome in his ranks. Because of his moment of kindness, he is an outcast now.

And it's all for nothing! Luna has run away in the middle of the night.

With a growl, Barty points his wand at a canvas. With a quick incantation, Luna's painting ignites. It is reduced to ash within seconds.

He doesn't really make a conscious decision to leave the little cabin. His feet seem to move on their own, carrying him outside. The cool mountain air does nothing to calm his nerves, but the change of scenery is nice.

"Don't worry, little friend. I won't hurt you."

His heart flutters at that soft, dreamy voice. Shame and guilt twist his insides as he realizes Luna hadn't run off. Once again, he had lost control; he isn't sure how to fix this mess now. That painting had been very dear to Luna.

Swallowing down the dark feelings, he follows the noise. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised to find Luna on the mountain path. She is like a wild bird who cannot be caged; her heart belongs to nature.

As he gets closer, he sees that she's talking to a snake. An amused grin pulls at his lips, and he shakes his head. She seems so fond of fearsome creatures. The fact that she fell in love with him is proof enough.

"I think it's time to go," he says.

She looks up and smiles. There's a simple in her left cheek that is noticable when she smiles like this. It makes him love her a little more. "Go?"

"Home with me," he says with a soft laugh. "Where you belong."

"Home," she echoes, nodding and climbing to her feet. The snake slithers away. "Are you okay, Barty?" She moves closer, reaching for him.

He never meant to fall in love with her. An act of mercy wasn't supposed to lead to this. Likewise, she wasn't supposed to love him back. The fact that she's stayed is a miracle.

"I'm fine," he tells her, taking her hand in his.

She purses her lips and tilts her head to the side. Her wide eyes move over him, studying him intently. Barty hates it when she looks at him like that. It makes him think she's looking into his soul.

"There are Wrackspurts around your head," she says simply. "They only do that when you're upset."

He still doesn't know what to make of her Wrackspurts. While Barty doesn't believe in them and never will, Luna only ever claims to see them when he has a lot on his mind. Maybe it's a coincidence; maybe it's something else entirely.

All he knows is that she is here, and relief floods his body as he pulls her closer. "Doesn't matter. Let's go home."


	18. End of the Night (JohnAmelia)

_Word Count: 440_

* * *

Amelia doesn't actually see the altercation. She's in her office when she hears the shouting. Within moments, she receives word that one of her Aurors is being examined by a mediwitch. And the other…

John walks into her office. His lip is busted, and there's a thin trail of crimson going down his chin. He grins. "My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side."

"I'm going to send you to the other side," Amelia says, exasperated. "What happened?"

He shrugs. Amelia doesn't believe the denial for a minute. John is a good Auror with a level head on his shoulders, not the type to get into silly fights in the office; he knows exactly what happened but doesn't want to tell her.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "You know I can't show favoritism, right?" she asks. "Just because you and I are…" She trails off, drawing her wand and quickly healing his damaged lip. She doesn't want to talk about what they are. Not out loud. Not here. "You're both going to face disciplinary action."

"That's fair." John touches his lip. "Am I going to live?"

"You're too annoying to die."

"Pretty sure that's not a compliment."

She grins. "It's not. Dinner tonight at your place or mine?"

"Mine."

"I'll see you then."

…

John pours himself a glass of firewhiskey as Amelia sits, plucking a sliced peach from the bowl and nibbling it. Dinner was wonderful, as always, but this is what she looks forward to the most. The fire crackles in the fireplace and the house is mostly silent, save for the small noises that every old house has.

"Are you going to tell me what the fight was about now?" she asks, wiping her fingers on her baggy beige jumper.

"What fight?" he asks innocently.

Amelia rolls her eyes. Whatever caused it must have been bad. John is always open with her about everything. "Stubborn," she says, affection clear in her tone.

He just smirks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

With a shrug, Amelia snuggles closer, eyes closing. There's something about John that has always made her feel safer. "Just don't make a habit of getting into fights. You're an Auror," she reminds him. "You're meant to be an example."

John leans in and kisses her forehead. "I thought we agreed not to bring work home."

She opens her eyes, lips twisting into a devious grin. "I thought you liked it when I bossed you around."

"Only in the bedroom."

Still grinning, she climbs to her feet and grabs his hand. "Then let's end our date there."


	19. Differences and Understanding (TheoLuna)

_Word Count: 381_

* * *

Luna Lovegood is still one of the world's greatest enigmas. Theo is reminded of this as he walks into the kitchen of their flat, box of pizza in hand. His girlfriend of two and a half years has left what looks suspiciously like on the table and counters. It leaves behind a damp mark on the wood.

"Do I even want to ask?" He nudges some of the lettuce away from the edge of the table, clearing off a small space and setting the box down. "Or am I better of not knowing?"

"Praxtackles," Luna says, as though that's enough to explain it.

Theo doesn't know what Praxtackles are or whether Luna is trying to summon them or ward them off. Luna is strange and odd, but he has learned to accept her. The fact that he's in love with her only seems to make it easier.

"Right," he says before digging in his shirt pocket and extracting a chocolate bar. It has dried cherries and candied walnuts, and it's Luna's favorite. "I got you something."

Luna accepts it. Smiling brightly, she peels away the pink wrapper. "You think I'm insane," she notes, breaking off a brown square and popping it into her mouth.

"I never said that."

She raises her brows. Though she doesn't say anything, Theo understands. He rolls his eyes. "That was one time!" he insists. "And I said you were eccentric."

"Daddy says that's just a polite way of saying insane."

Theo clears his throat. If he's honest, he used to think that way. Over the years, he's grown up and learned to be more accepting. Now, eccentric is just a word, just a Luna word.

"I can be eccentric too. I believe in what you believe. Ya know… Faith, trust, and pixie dust."

Luna laughs softly and sets her chocolate bar next to the pizza box. She moves closer and pulls Theo into a hug. "You don't, but that's okay. It would be boring if we were all the same."

Theo kisses her forehead. He will never really understand her, but it doesn't matter. He loves the ongoing mystery. "Come on," he says, pulling away and walking to the table. He opens the box, licking his lips in anticipation of the cheesy, herby goodness. "I'm starving."


	20. Going Public (DracoGinny)

_Word Count: 367_

* * *

"And what are you cackling about?"

Ginny looks up from Luna, cheeks burning when she sees Draco. She can't help but look around. Though the Hog's Head is mostly empty, this is still the most open he's ever dared to be.

"I think I'm going to examine the nargle nest behind Honeydukes," Luna says, climbing to her feet. She offers Draco the smallest smile before walking away.

"I do not cackle," Ginny says, giving him a pointed look.

Draco smirks as he sits across from her. "Whatever you say, Weasley."

Ginny bites the inside of her cheek. What is he doing here? Their stolen moments are supposed to be late at night and far away from prying eyes. Anyone could see him, and he's made it clear from the start that his reputation is more important than his happiness.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asks, sipping her butterbeer.

"Am I not allowed to go on a date with my girlfriend?"

She snorts. _Girlfriend. _They've never bothered putting labels on what they are. Her brows raise inquisitively. "Since when do we go on dates?"

Draco doesn't answer straight away. He calls out to Aberforth to bring him a butterbeer. Only when the old barman brings the glass over and returns to work does Draco speak again.

"Things are changing," he says.

She nods. Anyone with half a brain cell can see it. The war is over. Old prejudices may still be in place, but things aren't the way they were before. She's seeing more and more acceptance and unity each day.

"We… We don't actually have to hide, do we?" he asks. "Look at what's happening in the castle. Longbottom and Daphne are study partners, for Merlin's sake!"

Ginny nods. Neville and Daphne had struck up an unbreakable friendship the year before. They had paved the way for House unity now.

"So… You want to go public?"

He shrugs. "I'll buy you ice cream."

With a grin, Ginny shakes her head. "So you think you can just lure me into the public eye with ice cream?" she asks, amusement saturating her words.

"Yes."

Ginny leans across the table and kisses him gently. "You're absolutely right."


	21. Still Wanting (CharlieFleur)

_Word Count: 336_

* * *

"Do not fret," Fleur says, her tone soft and light, like there is nothing so terribly wrong about this whole mess. "It is not like you 'ave 'exed your brother."

Charlie snorts. It isn't a comforting thought at all. "You think that's the only way to hurt someone?" he asks, looking up at her.

She climbs out of bed, taking her time in collecting her clothes and getting dressed again. Charlie looks away, closing his eyes. He doesn't want to think about what they've done. He's betrayed his brother, and he hates himself for it.

"I am sorry, Charlie," she tells him. "I do 'zink are very charming, and I know you feel 'ze same about me."

He wishes he didn't. Even as regret weighs down on him, making the world feel so heavy on his shoulders, he cannot deny it. There will always be a part of him that wants her, that envies Bill for what he has. That isn't what love is supposed to be.

"Charlie?"

He swallows dryly. He's half-tempted to ask her to come back to bed. Merlin knows he already misses her silky skin against his.

But he can't. On the bedside table is a photograph of him and Bill when they were kids. Once upon a time, they had been inseparable; Charlie would have never even thought about hurting his brother. What changed? When did things become so messed up?

He climbs to his feet and dresses quickly. "I can walk you outside the wards," he offers.

She shakes her head before closing the distance between them and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I 'zink I will be okay on my own."

…

It's peaceful out here. Charlie throws himself into his work, tending to the newest dragon hatchlings. It's easy to lose himself as he throws raw meat into their enclosure or carefully cleans their scales.

But his mind still wanders, and he thinks of Fleur.

He wonders if he will ever be able to shake her.


	22. Whatever It Takes (Dramione)

_Word Count: 582_

* * *

The chaos has finally ended. The war is over.

Hermione walks through the ruined corridors of the school, tears clinging to her lashes. She is finally away from the crowded Great Hall, but she can't quite bring herself to break down. Not yet. She wonders if she will ever be able to escape from these thoughts that haunt her.

She slips into one of the Transfiguration classrooms. It's empty, of course. No one can really bring themselves to leave the Great Hall just yet. Safety in numbers, maybe. All Hermione knows is she wants to be alone.

That peace and quiet doesn't last long. The door opens. "Your family needs you now. After Fred…" She looks up, surprised to see Draco there. "You're not Ron."

Draco chuckles, but the sound is dry and hollow. This is no place for genuine laughter. "Very observant, Granger." He says her surname with a clear note of affection, changing it into a loving nickname. "I brought you this. The house-elves hadn't returned to the kitchens yet, but I didn't have to cook it."

He sets a bowl of chocolate pudding on the table. It's a kind gesture, a peace offering.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. It isn't enough; she doubts it could ever be enough. "You really hurt me, Draco," she says, opening her eyes again. "You should have come to me the moment they targeted you to become a Death Eater."

"I was scared, okay?" he snaps. "I was bloody terrified. I'm not a Gryffindor like you, Granger. I'm not brave."

Her heart breaks a little. Hermione nods, swallowing dryly. She sits at the table and sighs heavily. It isn't Draco's fault; she shouldn't be upset with him.

"It's been a wild year," she says.

He nods, taking a seat beside her. "It's only going to get wilder from here. My family will have to stand trial. There's no way around that."

It isn't surprising. Even if the Malfoys had second thoughts in the end, they still broke the law. The wizarding world will cry out for justice against all the Death Eaters. They won't see differences. Everyone will have to answer for their crimes.

"What do you need from me?" she asks softly.

Maybe she isn't like Harry. Her name doesn't carry the same weight, but she knows they will be talking about her soon enough. Her face will appear across magical media, and she will be called a hero. That sort of status has to mean something; there has to be something she can do. Given her rocky history with Draco in the early days, she may not be the best character witness, but she doesn't care. "I'll do whatever it takes."

He laughs, and the sound is more genuine this time. "Just be there for me," he says. "That's all I ask."

"I can do that."

He moves closer before pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. When he pulls away, he's smiling. This is the boy she loves. He is far too pale, and the dark circles under his eyes are frightening, but it doesn't matter. This is her Draco. Things are chaotic, and maybe the won't settle down for a long time, but they will get through this.

There is no other option.

"If you don't eat the pudding," he tells her with a grin, "I will."

Hermione smiles. The world is still mending but here they are. For one brief moment, they can be normal.


	23. Loving Out Loud (JamesRegulus)

_Word Count: 583_

* * *

He wishes it could be different, but it can't. No matter how hard James tries to fight it, they are still supposed to be enemies. All they can do is hide away in the dark, stealing kisses and dreaming impossible dreams.

"You're late," he says when he hears the soft footsteps behind him.

Regulus chuckles. "Not all of us can turn invisible. Some of us have to sneak out the old fashioned way."

James turns, his chest aching. If only it could be easier; if only Regulus could be his without complications. His lips twitch, slowly pulling into a charming smile. "I brought refreshments," he says, retrieving two bottles of butterbeer.

Regulus' brows raise. "Color me impressed."

James shrugs. By now, Regulus is used to his mysterious ways. It just makes James happy that he can still surprise the Slytherin. If he ever loses that, he doesn't know what he'll do with himself.

Regulus takes a step closer. James' heart flutters. It isn't fair that one boy can have this effect on him. He's meant to be a brave and bold Gryffindor, yet it's so easy for him to come undone.

"Shall we?" Regulus asks, gesturing toward the Black Lake.

James nods. He would never deny his boyfriend anything. Once they settle in on the sandbar, he opens his drink, taking a dip swig of it. It isn't as good bottled, but it's the best they can do for now.

Regulus doesn't touch his. He stares off into the distance, looking absolutely gorgeous in the milky glow of the moonlight. His mind seems to be elsewhere. James opens his mouth, but he can't seem to find the words to say.

Regulus is a Black. Like Sirius, he was never taught to properly express himself. He makes an effort, of course, but emotions are so foreign to him. James has learned not to press. If Regulus wants to talk, he'll come around.

"Do you think there's hope for us?" Regulus asks, kicking his trainers off and pulling his socks away. He sets them aside before dipping his bare feet in the cool water. "I mean… We always say we'll do anything for one another… But do you mean it?"

"I do."

He means it with every fiber of his being. Regulus means the world to him, and James would fight a thousand battles if it meant protecting Regulus.

"Do you mean it?" James asks.

Regulus nods without hesitation. "I hate hiding. I mean…" He sighs heavily. "If someone asks…"

"I never saw you," James says. "The fact that we were both out of bed is purely coincidence."

No one has ever asked. He doubts anyone will ever be able to put two and two together. Still, it's a lie he's practiced a hundred times, a lie that has become second nature to him.

"I love you," Regulus says, reaching out and resting his hand on James'. "I want to find a way to love you out loud."

"We'll find a way."

Another thing he's said more times than he can count. It has become something of a mantra for him now, and he still believes. Nothing will ever take that away from him.

It may not happen quickly. They may find themselves stumbling around, blind and lost and ready to let go. James will hold on. He will hold on because Regulus is worth the fight.

It may seem impossible now, but they will figure it out. All he has to do is believe.


	24. Smoke and Stars (DeanPiers)

_Word Count: 313_

* * *

They sit together beneath the stars. Piers can hardly believe Dean is back; after months of being missing, Dean appeared on Piers' doorstep, tired and bruised and lost. Piers had wanted to ask, but he had just stepped aside and let Dean back into his life, like he hadn't spent nearly a year panicking, desperate for things to go back to normal.

Now they're outside together, watching the stars. Piers tucks a cigarette between his lips and lights it, the fire briefly illuminating everything

"Still addicted," Dean notes.

Piers shrugs. "There are worse habits out there," he says. "Like disappearing without a word and staying gone for months."

"I did what I had to do."

Piers doesn't understand that. Nothing about Dean's disappearance made sense at all. His mother never answered any of Piers' questions, never raised any concern that her son was gone. Piers doubts Dean will answer his questions now either.

"Scale of one to ten," Dean says softly, "how much do you hate me?"

Piers groans. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and taps his thumb against the filter. Ash drifts to the ground as he returns the filter to his lips and inhales, his dark eyes fixed upon the twinkling stars overhead.

"I don't hate you," he says at last, breathing out a cloud of smoke. "I was worried. That's all. I missed you like crazy, and now that you're back… I know things aren't going to be all shiny and perfect, but… I want answers, Dean."

Silence hangs between them. After several moments, Dean nods. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

More silence. Piers feels the faintest hint of uncertainty creep into his soul. He swallows dryly.

Whatever Dean says won't matter. They will figure it out. He has to believe that.

"Okay," Dean says, taking Piers' hand. "No more secrets."

And so it feels like a new beginning somehow.


	25. Need You (PercyPenelope)

_Word Count:_ 368

* * *

Percy's hands tremble as he makes his fifth attempt at tying his tie. It shouldn't be this difficult, yet somehow it is. He knows it's just his nerves, but he can't get past it. His stomach seems to twist itself into painful contortions, and there isn't anything he can do about it.

"Breathe." Penelope appears behind him, offering him a small smile in the mirror. "You're going to be fine."

"Am I, Penny?" he asks, abandoning the tie to smooth out the creases in his black robes. Too many creases. If he wears these robes into work, he will be laughed at. "Because I really feel like the world is about to end."

She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him around. Facing her makes him feel slightly better. He sighs heavily, deflating.

"It's okay," she tells him. "The Ministry wouldn't have given you this promotion if they didn't think you were able to handle it."

Maybe he knows that, deep down inside. Still, it isn't enough to reassure him. Percy is well aware of his own intelligence, and he is more than capable. Still, despite it all, there's a voice that whispers in his head and reminds him that he isn't good enough. He doesn't have the same headstarts others in the office has. He's just a Weasley, someone who has had to struggle a little too long, and it feels so hopeless sometimes.

"Here." Penelope reaches up, making quick work of his tie. When she steps back, there's a reassuring smile on her lips. "Much better."

"What would I do without you?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"Crash and burn?"

He laughs, but he knows it's true. At the end of the day, Percy is too uptight for his own good. He thinks he might have gone crazy without Penelope by his side. Merlin knows she always make the rough days seem smoother.

He kisses her, lingering for a few moments and savoring the feel of her lips against his. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too."

He wonders if he would have even made it this far without her love. He'd rather not find out.


	26. Faithfully (LeeAlicia)

_Word Count: 390_

* * *

Alicia's heart is heavy as she makes her way through St. Mungo's. There are too many familiar faces. The war is over, and so many people she knows have ended up in the hospital or worse.

But she doesn't stop to chat. No one is in a talkative mood today. The heaviness of war still lingers inside their hearts. Some offer small, reassuring smiles as she passes, but no one tries to approach. They are all too broken.

Mrs. Jordan greets her outside the room. Her pretty face is lined and stained with tears as she wraps Alicia in a warm embrace.

"How is he?" Alicia asks.

"Strong. I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Merlin knows I need something stronger today," Mrs. Jordan answers, a sad smile twitching at her lips. "I'll give you two time."

With that, she's gone and Alicia steps into the room.

It's worse than she imagined. No one knows exactly what happened to Lee. A curse hit him, but no one who is responsible or what the curse had been. Bright yellow spikes protrude from his dark skin.

"Lee," she whispers, moving closer. "Does it hurt?"

It's a stupid question, of course. Anyone can see how painful it must be.

He smiles ever so slightly. "Only because it means I can't hold you."

At least the curse hasn't taken his quick wit. She doesn't know what she would do without it. There had been a moment during the ceasefire, when Angelina had found her. She had been afraid he was gone.

"Now I can ascend into the great beyond," he says, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Don't you dare," she says, folding her arms over her chest, trying and failing to look intimidating.

Lee just grins. She can still see the pain in his brown eyes, but he's still smiling like nothing is wrong, like seeing her is all he needs to be okay. "Fine." He shrugs, wincing at the movement. "But only because I want to hold you again."

"When you're better."

She doesn't know how long that will be. The Healers are doing everything they can to reverse the damage. All Alicia knows is that she isn't giving up. She and Lee have made it so far, and she will stay by his side.

Nothing will ever take him from her.


	27. In Love and Quidditch (GeorgeAngelina)

_Word Count: 644_

* * *

i.

They make the team the same year. Prior to that, Angelina barely knows George at all. But they are new together, and he and Fred have always seemed like good blokes. At the very least, they're a laugh.

ii.

"I'm gonna get sunstroke!" George complains.

"Think it'll actually shut you up?" Angelina teases, zooming past him on her broom, clutching the Quaffle tightly.

She only sees his face for a moment, but she sees the amusement in his eyes. Maybe it's just her imagination, but she would swear she hears him tell his twin, "I think I like her, Fred."

iii.

"If you get hurt," Oliver says, his hair ruffled by the breeze, "hurt 'em back. You get killed… walk it off."

Angelina rolls her eyes. By now, she's used to his pep talks. "I can still never tell if he's joking or not," she murmurs.

George laughs. "Now, Angie, you know Oliver doesn't joke about Quidditch."

She nudges him. "Don't call me Angie."

iv.

George always seems to silently challenge her. There's no competition at practice, but the two of them race, neck to neck.

He mimics snoring before jolting "awake" and looking at her, grinning. "Oh. I'm sorry. I fell asleep waiting for you to make me a sandwich."

"Go back to sleep," she says, willing her broomstick to go faster, "and starve."

She hears his laughter behind her, and she can't help but smile.

v.

They sit on the Quidditch pitch together after practice. Angelina wonders why she feels so nervous. It isn't like they're strangers.

"You know what's going to happen one day, don't you?" he asks, his hand grazing hers.

She pulls it away, shaking her head. "I promise not to fall in love with you."

George just laughs and leans back, cushioned by the lush grass. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

She opens her mouth to laugh at him, to tell him he's full of himself. The protest doesn't come. She frowns. When she had said it, she had felt so sure of herself. Why should she have any doubts now?

vi.

When Fred and George fly away, she is frozen. She wishes she could go with them.

vii.

The three of them are at the first Puddlemere match of the season. George excuses himself, muttering something about wanting a lemonade.

"You know he loves you, don't you?" Fred notes.

Angelina bites the inside of her cheek. She's suspected as much for a while now. If she's honest with herself, the feeling is mutual. Instrad of answering, she keeps her eyes on the sky, grinning when she sees Oliver fly out with the rest of his team.

"Tell him," Fred says. "Listen to your elders or whatever."

"Elder?" She raises her brows. "You're like a month older than me."

"Still older."

She just shakes her head. Even if the feelings are there, she isn't ready.

viii.

She doesn't know what to say when Fred dies. The words refuse to find her, even when she and George are alone on the Quidditch pitch together.

George falls into her arms, and she holds him.

ix.

The day they're married, they return to the Quidditch pitch once again. It's where they spent so much time with Fred, and it only seems right to end their day here.

"I miss him so much," George says.

Angelina kisses his cheek. "Me too."

x.

The first time Freddie Weasley climbs on a broomstick, he's a natural. Angelina stands by her husband's side, grinning proudly.

"Guess it runs in the family," George says before offering her a lolly. "Sweet?"

She narrows her eyes, instantly recognizing the wrapper. "An Acid Pop?" she asks. "Really?"

There are three things Angelina will always be absolutely sure about. Their lives would be empty without Quidditch, and George will always be the goofball she fell in love with.


	28. The Trouble With Wishes (BartyNarcissa)

_Word Count: 484_

* * *

It starts out simple enough. Barty is a boy with haunted eyes and a broken smile, and Narcissa is a girl who just wants an escape. They paths cross at the Astronomy Tower. After that, it happens over and over.

…

"Shooting star," Barty tells her. "Make a wish."

She laughs because it's silly. She is fifteen and much too old to be wishing on stars. And yet…

Her parents have announced her betrothal to Lucius Malfoy. The idea of being married to him is enough to make her stomach knot. Maybe they're a good family, and it's her duty, but she wants so much more.

Her gaze shifts to Barty.

She wants _him_.

And so she makes a wish.

…

When he kisses her, she thinks that maybe wishes can come true. After all, it's only a week after her wish. The universe has to be listening.

…

"You know what we're doing is dangerous, don't you?" he whispers to her as she peels away his jacket.

"I don't care."

…

She wants to believe. Each night, she falls a little more in love with him.

…

Wishes mean nothing in the end. She is Lucius', though only by name.

"Smile, Cissa," he tells her, and it's so clearly not a request. "It's your wedding day."

And she tries to smile because it's expected of her, but the twitch of her lips just feels wrong.

…

The morning the news comes, she breaks. It is not her sister's arrest that moves her to tears, but Barty's.

"Bella was reckless," Lucius says.

Numb, Narcissa can only nod.

…

There isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't think of him. He was her first kiss, her first love, her first everything.

Lucius doesn't love her. He only seeks to possess her, like she is some pretty little trinket to collect. He doesn't value her at all.

But Barty did. There was never a doubt in her mind that he loved her.

She sits outside the garden, watching the peacocks strut across the yard. Her eyes drift to the sky, and she makes a wish on the first star she sees.

…

When he appears at her door, her heart drops to her stomach. Against all odds, Barty has found her again.

But he is different. Though she would recognize him anywhere, this is not _her _Barty. There's a madness in his eyes that causes her to step away, to recoil with a shocked gasp.

"Did you miss me, Cissy?"

And she did. Of course she did. But this is a stranger, a monster wearing her lover's clothes. Her heart races, and she feels like her body might shut down. "They say you died."

He laughs. "Only part of me."

Despite her fear, she allows him to pull her close and kiss her. It isn't right. It isn't him.

Maybe wishes don't come true.


	29. I Do (RemusTonks)

_Word Count: 490_

* * *

It's a quiet affair. With war raging, the future seems so bleak. She doesn't want an elegant wedding when she knows her time could be better spent fighting. Her father becomes ordained for the occasion. He didn't have to, but Tonks can't imagine anything more special.

Tonks takes a deep breath. Even without the added pressure of a crowd of spectators, she is still nervous. Maybe she shouldn't be. Remus means the world to her, and she can't imagine going through life anywhere else but by his side. This is the right thing to do, and every ounce of doubt and hesitation fades when she looks into his eyes.

"Are you sure?" Remus whispers as they stand before her father, ready to make a lifetime commitment to one another. He scrubs his palms over the nape of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows dryly. "Are you sure you want to be married to… me?"

She knows what he's getting at, of course. Remus still seems to find it hard to believe anyone would be willing to marry him. If only he knew. She wishes she could show him through her own eyes. How can Remus not see what a great man he is? She is lucky to have him in her life. How could anyone not want a promise of eternity by his side?

Her eyes narrow, and she lightly pokes her finger against his chest. "The first day I met you… Everything reminds me of that day," she tells him. "I see your eyes when I go to sleep. It's your smile that gets me through the day. If you think for one second that I'm making a mistake…"

She trails off, sucking in a shaky breath. It truly baffles her that he can't see it. From the moment she saw him, she knew it was meant to be.

"I'm not making a mistake," she says. "I love you, and I accept the parts of you that you can't seem to accept, okay? Please let that be enough, Remus."

Somehow, it is. Tonks can still see the doubt in his amber eyes, but his smile looks more genuine. He squeezes her hand, nodding. "I do love you," he assures her. "Sometimes it's just…"

"I know," she says softly. "It's a messy world out there, but at least we have each other."

"At least there's that."

She turns to face her father, and butterflies erupt within her stomach. Her father smiles, and it's just a little more reassurance that everything is going to be okay.

Maybe they don't have it all figured out. Maybe there will always be fears and insecurities that will make their path bumpy and rough, but it doesn't matter. They are in this together. For better or worse, they will face life side by side and battle their demons together.

The vows fall from her lips with ease, and she smiles. "I do."


	30. Odd Habits (DeanPiers)

_Word Count: 327_

* * *

Piers sighs heavily _before_ sitting on the couch beside his boyfriend. "Hear the rain?" he asks, gesturing toward the window which is being pelted roughly by raindrops. "I guess you're stuck here."

Dean snorts, eyes rolling. "You know we're neighbors, right? It takes maybe a minute to reach my door.'

Piers shrugs. "I don't make the rules," he says with a laugh. "Now. Fish and chips!"

At least Dean grabbed lunch before the storm hit. Piers' cousin-turned-guardian hasn't been to the market yet, and there isn't much to eat in the kitchen.

He's about to thank Dean, when he notices a glob of white. Dean dips a chip in the mayonnaise, eating it like it's perfectly normal. "Tell me the truth," Piers says, nose wrinkling in disgust. "How does it feel to be soulless?"

"Soulless?" Dean echoes, dipping another chip.

Piers nods. "That's the only reason I can think of that you would do… that." He gestures vaguely.

Dean laughs. "We've been going steady for two years, and you never knew I did this?"

"It ain't good form, you know," Piers huffs, plucking a chip from his tray. "You ought to be ashamed."

His boyfriend is unfazed. He just laughs again and shakes his head like Piers has made a joke. "That would require actually caring."

"You don't care that you've traumatized me?" Piers asks. "Any other weird food habits I should know about?"

"If toast is cut diagonally, I can't eat it." Dean shrugs. "Not sure if that's weird."

"It's definitely weird."

Another shrug. Dean dips another chip into the mayo before happily eating it, a look of pure bliss on his face as he chews. "You don't know what you're missing."

Piers just smiles and eats his fish. Dean can be pretty weird sometimes, but he's learned to see his eccentricities as endearing. At the end of the day, Dean means everything to him, and he wouldn't trade his mayonnaise-dipped chip eating for the world.


	31. Good Day (ParvatiLavender)

_Word Count: 403_

* * *

It has been a good day. Long after the war and the damage left behind by Greyback, good days are too few and far between. But Lavender has made it through the day without a meltdown, and she counts that as a victory.

She summons a teacup before lifting the kettle and pouring the steaming water over the teabag. She sits at the table, spooning sugar into the hot drink. After a moment of consideration, she plucks a Chocolate Frog from her pocket. Since the attack, she's kept chocolate on her at all times. It's one of the few things that take her back to a happier, simpler time.

The front door opens and closes. A moment later, Parvati is in the kitchen, smiling brightly S she sets a container of ice cream on the table.

"You brought ice cream," Lavender observes. "Is this a date?"

Her girlfriend laughs softly, sitting next to her and summoning bowls and spoons. "You've known me for nearly a decade now. When has ice cream ever been anything other than a date?"

"Fair point."

And with that, Lavender peels away the lid of the container, digging her spoon into the ice cream and transferring it to her bowl. She licks her lips, eager. As she lifts her spoon to her lips, she noticed Parvati watching her. "Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"Looking at you? Nah. I can do this all day."

Lavender hates the way she blushes at that. What is it about Parvati that makes her feel so undone? No one else can quite shake her the way her girlfriend does. It's ridiculous since they've been dating for so long. How can Parvati reduce her to little more than a blushing fool?

"You know, a life without ice cream would be a fare worse than death," Parvati says.

"I think a life without you would be much worse."

Parvati laughs like she thinks Lavender is trying to be smooth. It isn't like that, though. She means every word of it. Parvati had stayed by her side during her darkest days. Even when Lavender had given up on herself, Parvati stood by her and never lost hope.

At the end of the day, chocolate and ice cream are all fine and well, but they aren't her keys to happiness. Nothing could ever come close to making Lavender feel as safe and secure as Parvati does.


	32. Understanding (NevilleDaphne)

_Word Count:_ 885

* * *

_"He lost a friend but gained a memory."_

_-Rocky Mountain High_

* * *

This goes so far beyond fear. Pure terror grips Daphne as Alecto Carrow raises her wand. How long has this been going on? It feels like an eternity. All Daphne knows is that her body is weak from the torture, and she doesn't know how much more she can take.

She will not crack; she cannot crack.

"_Crucio!_"

She screams. Her throat is raw from all the screaming, but she knows it will do no good. There will be no mercy for her, no relief.

Daphne's mind is clouded with pain, but she recalls Pansy's face with pure fury. They were supposed to be friends. So many people referred to them as Slytherin House's dynamic duo, and they were queens.

But Pansy has betrayed her. An admission of doubt and guilt found the Carrows' ears, and it's all Pansy bloody Parkinson's fault. Maybe friendship means nothing in the end.

"You will submit to the new order, girl," Alecto says with a sneer. "I should have known a _Greengrass _would cause us trouble. _Crucio!_"

Slowly, the world grows black around her, and she escapes the pain only when she loses consciousness.

…

When she wakes, she is chained to the wall. There are others around her, those who have also earned the Carrows' wrath. The dungeon is too dark; she cannot make out any of their faces, but she can hear sobbing and babbling.

"Second star to th-the right," someone says with a quivering voice. "And straight on til morning."

"I want my mummy."

She closes her eyes, trying to tune it out, but there is so much noise.

"Have you seen my kitten?"

"What if we starve."

And then it's dead silence, and the door creaks open. Daphne feels sick. The Carrows have come back. They've decided to have a little late night torture session.

But it isn't Alecto or her filthy brother who speaks. "Come on. We have to act quickly!"

"Longbottom?" Daphne opens her eyes, squinting against the wandlight. She can just barely make out his face.

"Greengrass?" He approaches her lowering his wand so that he can better study her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, just hanging out. Someone told me they had wonderful margaritas down here."

"Sarcasm not needed," Neville says. "Let me get you out of these chains."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" someone asks. "She's a Slytherin."

_Slytherin. _The world is hurled like an insult, with so much venom behind it. Daphne sniffs, maintaining as much dignity as possible. She may be in a dismal position, but she will still hold her head high.

"It would be awfully suspicious if everyone was gone but her," Neville says. "Come on. I've got you."

…

They call it the Room of Requirement. Daphne doesn't understand the name, but everyone seems content with it. There are beds and books and so many lovely things. She thinks she could maybe get comfortable here.

Then again, it looks like she doesn't have much choice. If she leaves this place, the Carrows will find her. She imagines the torture will be so much worse next time.

"I found you some clothes," Lavender Brown says, dropping the clothes on Daphne's bed. She offers her a quick smile before rushing off, joining the Patil twins on the other side of the room.

It's going to be a lonely existence; Daphne can already tell.

…

_The curse hits again and again. Daphne has never known pain like this. How is it possible the agony to seep all the way through her bones, into her marrow?_

_Every nerve is on fire. Every inch of her aches and she knows there will never be any relief._

Daphne bolts upright, breathing heavily. She's covered in a cold sweat, and her stomach churns violently. Breathing deeply, she swallows. She won't throw up; she won't allow herself to be week.

"I had nightmares my first week here," Neville tells her.

Daphne jumps, swearing under breath. "Real funny, sneaking up on people," she snaps.

He sits beside her. In the dim candlelight, she can see the blush creep into his cheeks. "Sorry. Wasn't trying to sneak. I… Well, I was worried about you."

His response catches her off guard. Daphne opens her mouth, but she isn't sure what to say. There are far too many questions she would like to ask. Finally, she settles on, "Why?"

Neville's cheeks grow darker. "Don't make me say it."

She knows that embarrassment too well. "Oh."

Neville as certainly grown up. He is no longer that awkward, fumbling idiot she laughed at in her first year. He is handsome, but it's his newfound confidence that makes her really take notice.

"I see," she says before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

She isn't sure if she feels anything for him, but she thinks she could so easily. There is something about Neville that makes him easy to like. Those feelings could grow.

With that, she lays back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. Maybe she doesn't have Pansy as a friend anymore. Maybe the dynamic duo has fallen apart, never to be reunited. But it doesn't matter. She still has the memories.

More importantly, as Neville lays beside her and holds her hand, she realizes she has a future.


	33. Flying (Deamus)

_Word Count:_ 339

* * *

"Oh, come on!" Dean insists as he navigates Seamus through the airport. "Aren't you at all curious about it?"

His boyfriend scowls. "Curious? If people were meant to fly, they would have wings!"

Dean rolls his eyes, unable to resist a soft laugh. It's amusing that Seamus doesn't care for the idea of flight. He's good on a broomstick, and he never had any issue with being the target of a levitation charm while practicing.

As if he can read Dean's mind, Seamus folds his arms stubbornly over his chest and huffs. "Have you seen what these bloody planes look like?" he asks. "Great bloody birds made of metal! You can't tell me that's natural."

Dean shrugs. "Natural? Nah. It isn't," he confirms. "But it's safe. Mostly."

He winces when he says it. The last thing Dean needs to do is put the idea of plane crashes in Seamus' head. But it's too late. His boyfriend pales and looks infinitely more nervous.

_Great. _Their flight leaves in an hour, and Seamus looks like he might have a panic attack.

"Shay," Dean says softly, "I'm not sure if you noticed, but we're wizards. If anything goes wrong, we have an escape plan." He pats his pocket where his wand is tucked away, emphasizing the point. "You'll be fine."

Seamus still doesn't quite look convinced, but he softens. Hesitantly, he nods and takes Dean by the hand. "Dunno why you have to do the whole Muggle transportation thing," he says dryly.

"Because I love having new experiences with you," Dean tells him.

That makes Seamus smile. "Well, if you put it that way…"

…

By the time they touch down in New York, Seamus is brimming with joy. His entire demeanor changed the moment the plane took flight.

"Did you see it?" Seamus asks eagerly. "We were in the clouds, Dean!"

Dean chuckles. "See? It wasn't so bad, was it."

Seamus shrugs like he wants to downplay it, but he's grinning from ear to ear. "Bloody brilliant. Can we go again?"


	34. Asking Now (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 521_

* * *

Daphne isn't sure why she's come to the Yule Ball at all. After years of attending various parties throws by her family or their friends, she knows she doesn't particularly enjoy social gatherings, especially not ones like this.

Still, the food is good. She finds herself sitting in the corner, away from all the noise and dancing, munching away at something chocolatey and covered in powdered sugar.

Her gaze flickers to the dance floor. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, at least. She can't help but smile.

"Tell me, what's the most beautiful girl in the castle doing here alone?"

Daphne looks up to see Blaise standing in front of her, a grin on his face as he watches her eat. Truth be told, she might hate the ball so much if Blaise had asked her. Maybe part of her truly expected him to. In the end, it had been little more than just wishful thinking on her part.

"I thought it would be obvious that I'm here alone and eating," she says before finishing the last bite. She's tempted to lick away the chocolate from her fingers, but she has to maintain some semblance of dignity in front of Blaise. She opts for a napkin instead.

Blaise snorts. "Smartass."

"Don't ask dumb questions."

He smirks, and Daphne hates how much that simple quirk of his lips drives her wild. It isn't fair. He's already good-looking, but tonight he looks absolutely amazing in his perfectly tailored grey and white pinstriped dress robes. She wonders if he knows how attractive he is. Merlin knows that quite a few students stare whenever he passes by.

"Why don't you dance with me?" he asks.

Daphne scoffs. He had plenty of chances to ask her to the Yule Ball, but he never did. Of course, she could have easily had her pick of partners. Two boys had asked her out, and she knows Goyle would have if he wasn't so shy.

But she hadn't wanted any of them. Likewise, she hadn't taken the initiative and asked anyone else because she knew exactly who her heart wanted. In the end, it seemed like it wasn't meant to be.

So why is he here now, asking her to dance with him? Daphne swallows down the resentment as she lifts her glass of punch, studying the red contents as if they're the most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh, come on, Daph," Blaise sighs. "Don't pout. You should be above that."

"I should," she agrees. "Which is why I'm not pouting. Why should I dance with you? If you wanted my time, you would have asked me to be your date."

"I'm asking you now."

She considers for a moment. It would be easy to drag this out and give him a hard time. It seems that their relationship has been based around that teasing and playfulness for so long.

In the end, she knows she can't say no to him. Well, she can, but it would make life a lot more boring.

Daphne sets her glass aside and stands, offering him her hand. "I would love to."


	35. Just Fine (FrankAlice)

_Word Count: 312_

* * *

"What if I drop him?"

Alice chuckles softly and kisses her husband's cheek. "You won't drop him, Frank," she assures him.

Frank doesn't look at all convinced. He stares down at their son, and Alice is worried he might actually faint. They spent months going over everything, but, in the end, Frank still looks absolutely terrified. Alice bites back a laugh. The last thing she needs is for Frank to think she's giving him a hard time.

"Is he supposed to wriggle like that? He… He isn't broken is he?"

"No. Just move your hand up a bit. There you are."

Once she guides him along, he looks much more reassured. His panicked expression softens to one of sheer amazement as he looks down at Neville. His lips quirk, and his smile is so beautiful. "Hello, Neville," he says softly. "You're going to grow into such a strong boy. I hope you know that."

Neville just gurgles and squirms. Frank seems to relax into it. The way he holds Neville and soothes him in the softest tones, it's hard to believe he's never had any experience with babies before. From what Alice can tell, he's a natural.

"You're going to be brilliant, Frank," she says. "Such an amazing father."

…

Once Neville is asleep for the night (or at least a few hours), Frank joins Alice, sitting beside her bed. He takes her hand, and it makes her heart flutter.

"We're actually parents," he says.

She laughs softly, nodding. "Still hard to believe, isn't it?"

She had been so afraid when she found out. A war is no place for a baby. Truth be told, she is still terrified, but she thinks that maybe they're going to be okay. After all, if Frank is by her side, there's no way that she can lose.

"We're going to be just fine," she says


	36. Their Own (HelgaRowena)

_Word Count: 404_

* * *

These are the moments that Rowena loves the most. Here, lying in the soft grass and gazing up at the glittering stars in the inky sky, she feels invincible. The stress of the castle and students and lessons seem to melt away until all that is left is her and her lover.

"Do you ever wonder if we made the right choice?" Helga murmurs, her hand resting in Rowena's. "Are we making a difference in the world?"

Rowena considers for a moment. It is still too early to tell the impact of their school just yet. Hogwarts has only been running for three years now. Still, she sees the proof. Those they have taught and trained are changing the world. Perhaps they are small changes now, but she knows they will amount to great things. She can feel it in her bones.

"I believe so," Rowena answers. "We have done so much already. Is something troubling you, my love?"

Helga chuckles and moves closer. She shifts so that her head rests on Rowena's chest. The warmth and closeness makes her heart flutter. She wonders it Helga can hear how unsteady her heartbeat is. If she notices, she doesn't say anything.

"It seems so strange. In a way, I have what I have always desired. You are by my side, and we have a family of sorts."

Rowena smiles at that. Falling in love with Helga is dangerous. There are too many people who would never understand, who would call their love tainted and strange. That doesn't stop them, of course. She believes nothing could ever stop her from loving Helga.

With their challenges, they knew they would never be able to have the things they might have with a man. It never mattered. They have had each other for so long, and that is all that matters.

But she realizes that Helga is right. In their own way, they have found a family.

"Ever the hopeful one, dearest," Rowena says softly.

Helga moves again, angling her face so that she can press a chaste kiss to Rowena's lips. "How can I be anything but hopeful? We truly are so blessed."

Maybe life is strange and difficult. Maybe the two of them will never be accepted as they are. In spite of it all, Rowena does not mind. She has Helga, Hogwarts, and an infinite number of glittering stars overhead. What more could she want?


	37. Ridiculous (CormacRomilda)

_Word Count: 438_

* * *

Romilda shivers as she enters the house, the chill of the December air still lingering in her skin. She shakes her head, forcing the last clinging flakes of snow from her dark hair. "Another day," she says with a sigh, "another migraine."

Cormac pokes his head out of the kitchen, offering her a pearly white grin. "That's a shame," he says. "You know why?"

She resists the urge to roll her eyes as she removes her lavender cloak and hangs it in the hall closet. As much as she loves her boyfriend, he can be a little too cheerful for her liking. "It's been a long day," she says patiently. "Please don't say anything stupid."

"You got chosen!"

It is, in fact, something stupid. Romilda doesn't point that out, though. She notices the cup in his hand, and it is so easy to forgive him for being ridiculous. She licks her lip, eyes on the steam rising from the mug.

As Cormax approaches, the scent of chocolate and cinnamon becomes more distinct. Romilda holds out her hand, happily accepting the hot cocoa. "Why are you so good to me?" she asks, taking a sip. It burns the roof of her mouth, but that doesn't stop her from taking a second sip.

"I dunno," he says, pursing his lips in thought. "Maybe I just have abnormally low standards."

Romilda playfully smacks him. "Oi!"

"Keep it up, and I won't make you any spinach puffs."

Romilda huffs, stepping past him and sitting on the couch. She smirks at him as she sets the cocoa on the table. "I never liked your spinach puffs."

The dramatic gasp that escapes his lips is priceless. Romilda snorts, dark eyes rolling. It's a lie, and Cormac knows it.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," he says childishly, emphasizing his disbelief by poking out his tongue.

Romilda laughs and pats the spot beside her, beckoning him closer. "Stop running your mouth and come love me," she says. "I told you I had a long day."

"You insulted my spinach puffs."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Really, he is too ridiculous sometimes. Still, she wouldn't change him for the world. "I love your spinach puffs almost as much as I love you."

And that's all it takes. He jumps onto the couch, wrapping his arms around her. Just like that, the world fades away. Why should it matter if she's stressed? For now, she has a ridiculous man and the best hot cocoa, two things anyone would be lucky to come home to on such an unforgiving winter day. What else could she need?


	38. Matters of the Heart (LeeRoxanne)

_Word Count: 453_

* * *

Lee wakes, blinking uncertainly. With a yawn, he sits up, rubbing his tired eyes. "Was someone kissing me?" he murmurs.

Roxanne grins at him, sitting beside him on the bed. She's already dressed for the day, though the clock beside him says it's only four in the morning. No one in their right mind should be up before noon. Then again, no one ever accused Roxanne of being normal.

"Someone should always be kissing you," she says with a mischievous grin. She smooths her hands over her purple blouse and leans in, kissing him gently on the lips. "Well. As long as that someone is me."

Lee sighs and gently captures her wrists, pulling her close. "We can't continue on like this," he tells her.

It's a conversation they've danced around for so long. Roxanne looks annoyed by his declaration, but not surprised. It's always been a matter of time before they had to talk seriously about this.

"Your dad…"

"What about him?" she asks. "I'm twenty, Lee. He can't dictate who I do and do not spend time with."

Lee raises a brow. "Is that why you're going to sneak home before anyone else is awake?"

She rolls her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. Merlin, why is she so cute when she's mad at him? "Will I ever win?" She huffs, deflating slightly. "I… You know, it really isn't fair. I'm the one who came on to you."

Lee laughs. He remembers it all too well. She had been so sure, and he had been hesitant. So, for the past two months, they have kept it a secret, unsure of how to proceed with it. But they can't keep going on like this. It isn't just some silly fling. Neither have dared to admit it, but he knows there is something much deeper between them.

But the fact that she's his best friend's daughter complicates things.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "Your dad will be pissed."

Roxanne sighs. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Lee wonders if that might be best. Probably. He should let her go and just cherish the moments they had together. There isn't much else that makes sense.

But he isn't sure that he _wants _to be logical. Logical should have no place in matters of the heart. Besides, he is far too selfish to just let her go.

Their future is unknown, but he wants to figure it out. No more haze of uncertainty and mystery, no more wondering what would happen _if… _

It's time to take the leap, to figure things out.

"I want to tell him," he says.

Roxanne hesitates. After several moments, she nods. "We can. You and me," she whispers. "Together."


	39. Like a Date (CharlieDraco)

_Word Count: 520_

* * *

This is not good, not good at all. Draco takes a deep breath as the wind picks up, pulling limbs from the trees. He needs to take shelter. Preferably shelter that doesn't smell like dragon dung.

Unfortunately, he is trapped on the other side of the dragon reserve, and his mind is too clouded with fear to even think of Apparating. At this rate, he's going to be stuck here until this blows over.

_If _it blows over. Right now, Draco doesn't like his chances. There's too much thunder and lightning, and he feels so exposed. All it will take is one loud noise to scare the wrong dragon, and he might have a fire on his hand as well.

"Draco?"

"Weasley?"

Sure enough, that familiar freckled face and red hair come into view. Charlie Weasley grins at him as he brushes his fingers through his wild, windswept hair. "Hell of a storm, eh?"

"Shouldn't you be inside?" Draco asks incredulously.

Charlie shrugs. "You were missing."

Draco doesn't know how to react to that. If someone was missing, Draco knows he wouldn't be out there in this mess looking for them. Then again, Charlie is a foolish Gryffindor. Of course he would be just as obnoxiously daring as Ron. Why wouldn't he brave a bloody storm like this?

"Are you hurt?" Charlie asks. "I can carry you if you are."

_Carry him?_ Draco scowls at the thought of it. He isn't some bloody damsel who needs to be rescued. Sure, he may be in distress, but he will not sacrifice his dignity.

He notices the way Charlie grins at him. It isn't just a teasing quirk of his lips. Draco almost laughs. "Are you actually flirting with me?"

"Have been for the past two months," Charlie says with a roll of his eyes. "Thanks for noticing. Now, come on. My place is closer."

…

Shattered glass litters the floor of Charlie's place. It takes only a moment to find the source, a broken window. Charlie mutters the repairing charm, fixing it in an instant. "Guess it's more windy than I thought. Want a drink?"

"Wine, please."

"Sorry. I'm a hard liquor sort of bloke," Charlie tells him.

"Firewhiskey then."

Charlie salutes before setting to work, retrieving a bottle and two glasses. Draco watches him, searching for the right words to say. His tongue seems to stick to the roof of his mouth, and his throat is suddenly strangely dry.

"Two months," Draco manages at last, accepting the glass as Charlie sets it in front of him. "You've been flirting for two months?"

Charlie chuckles. "Not very well, apparently."

"I'm not sure what to say."

"Say you'll let me take you to dinner this weekend," Charlie suggests.

Draco bites the inside of his cheek. Romania is supposed to be about starting over and being a better person. He isn't sure if he's there yet, if he's the sort of bloke who is worthy of someone like Charlie Weasley.

And yet Charlie looks at him like maybe he's the greatest thing in the world, and it makes Draco melt a little bit.

"How does Saturday sound?" Draco asks.

"Like a date."


	40. Ginger (DeanPiers)

_First Aid, task 2: Write about an allergy _

_Word Count:_ 513

* * *

"You got a cat," Dean says, brows raising curiously.

"Kitten," Piers corrects, as though it is enough to make a real difference.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes, shrugging. The kitten is cute enough with its orange and white stripes and tiny pink nose. It mews, poking its head up and squirming in Piers' hand, trying to explore its surroundings.

"Roguish little girl," Piers chuckles, tucking a slender finger under her fuzzy chin and scratching gently.

There's just one small problem. Dean can already feel his throat growing scratchy. He takes a step back, tucking his face into elbow as he sneezes.

"You're allergic," Piers says.

There's no denying the disappointment in his voice. It's nothing that either of them can help, but Dean can't help but feel guilty over it. Piers' dark eyes had lit up so brightly as he showed the kitten to Dean. The happiness on his face had been so beautiful. Can Dean really take that away from him?

It isn't the end of the world, of course. There had been cats galore at Hogwarts. Hermione's shaggy, ginger cat had possibly been the worst. The cat had been irritable enough, but it also had the bad habit of shedding all over the place. Dean can feel his arms breaking out just thinking about it.

With a shudder, he rubs his palms over his skin, trying to ease the itching. He can't quite tell what is the result of a current allergy and what is memory that is just a bit too vivid.

"Where did you find her?" Dean asks, sniffling.

"Outside the bakery, in the alley," his boyfriend answers. "I was taking the trash to the bins for Max. Poor girl was starving."

Dean nods. He can see her ribs pressing against her skin. Every little movement and sound makes her tense. Still, she is so calm and loving, and Dean can't help but assume that she had been thrown out.

He tries to be an optimist and have a little faith in the world, but humans never fail to disappoint him.

"We can keep her," Dean says.

"But your allergies…"

Dean offers him a grin, stepping closer. He pets the kitten gently, laughing as she affectionately rubs her head against his palm. "Being a wizard has its perks, you know."

Hogwarts had been home to countless cats, and Dean hadn't been the only one with an allergy. Once a week, he and a few others would sit in the hospital wing, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to hand out vials of pale pink. Dean has never attempted to brew an allergy potion, but he thinks it will be easy enough.

Piers looks so happy with the kitten, and Dean refuses to let his allergies interfere with his boyfriend's joy. Besides, the kitten has already grown on him.

"Does she have a name yet?" Dean wonders.

"Not yet." Piers lifts her up, studying her. "Ginger?"

It's a ridiculous name. Too plain, too simple, too Muggle. Somehow, that makes it perfect.

"Ginger," Dean agrees.

And so their family grows.


	41. Birthday In the Greenhouse (NevHannah)

_Word Count: 402_

* * *

Hannah hesitates outside the greenhouse that doubles as her husband's office. She cannot see through the glass, but she knows Neville is in there, even though it's swiftly nearing midnight. It isn't a surprise. Neville has always done so well with plants. How can she fault him for spending so much time with them.

After several moments, she steps inside. Neville's back is to her as he tends to a majestic vine with weeping purple blooms. Still not looking up from his work, Neville calls out, "For the last time! You lot are not extracting poison from the plants to see if bezoars really work! Trust me; they do."

Hannah chuckles. "Is that what the kids do these days?" she asks, amusement clear in her tone.

Neville looks up at last, turning. His cheeks are a dark pink when he sees her. "Hannah? What are you doing here?"

She raises her brows. "I want sure where else to go," she says softly. "_Someone _stood me up for my birthday dinner."

"Your birthday… Your birthday is today. Oh my God!" Neville slaps his palm to his forehead, groaning. "I forgot your birthday."

Hannah shrugs. She already knows Neville is forgetful. He's had to use his Remembrall less and less, but that doesn't really change anything. Sometimes things slip through the cracks. It's just a part of life.

"I am so sorry, Hannah," he sighs. "I was so caught up in the plants. Then I realized I didn't have a lesson plan for my second years now that the mandrakes have been taken care of. One thing lead to another…"

She takes a step closer, digging in her purse. The expansion charm on it is perfect. It holds everything she needs to have a good birthday. "You can make it up to me by washing dishes tomorrow," she tells him, pulling out two takeaway boxes and a tray of dessert.

Neville quickly clears the table. He mutters an enchantment to clean the spot before taking the food from Hannah. "I'm still sorry."

"You can show me how sorry when you scrub the dishes," she laughs, setting forks and knives on top of the containers.

It isn't a perfect birthday, but she doesn't mind. She never asked for perfection, only love. There is no doubt in her mind that Neville loves her and tries his best.

That's as close to perfect as she'll ever need.


	42. The Morning Of (PercyLuna)

_Word Count: 331_

* * *

"Oh. Hello, Percy."

Percy is halfway to the door of the Burrow, exhausted from pulling an all-nighter at the office. He's still dressed in his work robes. He turns, confused to find anyone out this early.

Luna Lovegood is there, smiling brightly at him, surrounded by gnomes. "You look quite dapper," she says, shooing a gnome that tugs at the hem of her yellow dress.

"I'm not sure that you should be out here with them," Percy cautions. "They're quite vicious."

She laughs at that, easily stepping over the gnomes and moving closer. "Actually, they attack to help people. Did you know their slavia has natural powers that can be passed to us?"

Percy resists the urge to roll his eyes. He remembers someone at the Ministry mentioning some bizarre _Quibbler _article about that very thing. He doesn't bother arguing about it or citing everything he's ever read. Luna is the type to follow her own path.

"Anyone awake?" he asks. "Or is it just us?"

"Just us. I suspect Ginny will be awake soon. She seems nervous about today."

_Today. _Percy swears softly under his breath. He had forgotten that his little sister is getting married to Harry today. He most definitely wouldn't be winning the brother of the year award.

"Hey, Luna," he says. "Would you like to be my date to the wedding?"

She's lovely; Percy has found her lovely since the moment Ginny introduced in the days following the battle. She is strange but brilliant, and Percy finds her madness to be intoxicating.

"Date?" she asks curiously. "Why would you want that?"

He chuckles. "Why not? Unless you would rather go alone. Or with someone else. Beautiful as you are, I'm sure you already have a date."

He feels the heat form in his cheeks, slowly creeping up to his ears. He is not smooth and confident, but he wishes he could be.

Luna smiles and holds out her hand. "I would love to be your date."


	43. Happiness and Cake (ArthurMolly)

_Word Count: 637_

* * *

Molly can't sleep, but that's okay. It's never too early to start the day. Besides, five o'clock in the morning isn't outrageous, even if it _is _a Saturday.

With a soft groan, she climbs to her feet, resting a hand on her swollen, pregnant belly. It's exactly why she can't sleep. Their little William has been awfully restless lately; it won't be much longer before he has joined them. "At least you let Mummy sleep a few hours," she murmurs, making her way downstairs to the Burrow's kitchen.

She doesn't really even think about. It's just something she does. When she's stressed, she bakes. When she's sleepless, she bakes. When she's happy, she bakes. As far as Molly is concerned, there's no situation that cannot be improved with a bit of baking

She hums to herself, carefully measuring and mixing each and every ingredient with narrowed eyes, ensuring absolute perfection. It's how her grandmother did it. She could have so easily used magic, but her grandmother always told her that there's something beautifully magical about doing some things by hand, and baking is one of those. Molly is inclined to agree.

As she pours the batter into the pan, she looks out the window. Rain softly pelts the grass. Good. They need a bit of rain. Her vegetable garden is thriving because of the magical fertilizer she added to the soil, but nothing can beat a nice, gentle shower to moisten the soil.

She sets the pan in the oven before summoning an umbrella and stepping outside. The rain continues to fall, and the scent of wet earth fills her lungs. A smile tugs at her lips.

Fabian and Gideon had expressed their doubts when they saw the Burrow. Molly isn't spoiled by any means, but she has never been one to find solace in simplicity. Now, she realizes how beautiful the world really is, how she doesn't need much to keep her happy. She has a loving husband, a wonderful family, a house in the countryside, and peace of mind. No amount of gold or material things could ever replace that. She is happier than she could have ever imagined.

Thunder rolls, and she sees lighting cut through the dark sky. That's her signal to head back inside. Rain may soothing, but thunder and lightning aren't. She thinks a nice cup of tea sounds nice. Maybe a bit of bread and cheese too. Then, of course, she will have cake.

…

By the time Molly has removed the cake from the oven and gotten the frosting to be the perfect shade of violet, she hears Arthur shuffling around upstairs. She smiles, her heart fluttering softly in her chest. It amazes her that just hearing him walk can make her feel so happy.

"You're up early, Mollywobbles. I- Oh!" Arthur's sentence ends in a cry as he seems to trip over his own feet and fall to the floor. "I'm fine! Don't worry, dear." He climbs to his feet, wincing, before Molly can move. His eyes widen when he sees the cake. "So that's what I smelled. Are we having cake for breakfast."

She smiles, chuckling softly as she begins to smooth the violet frosting over the cake. "Pregnancy cravings," she says with a shrug.

He moves beside her, kissing her cheek. "I'm certainly not complaining. Would you like some tea? Or anything at all?"

"I'm fine, Arthur, but thank you."

She knows how lucky she is. There are so many pureblood men out there who still view their wives as trophies, a shiny little trinkets to show off. But not Arthur. Her husband sees her as something amazing, as a partner, as an equal, and she loves him even more for that.

Smiling to herself, she cuts the first piece of the cake. "Breakfast is ready."


	44. Break (HoraceMinerva)

_Word Count: 302_

* * *

"You've done your part," Minerva tells him. "There is nothing left to prove."

_Nothing left to prove. _Horace almost laughs at that. Yes, he has done his part. Against his better judgement, he took a stand and led countless students, new and old, into battle. Not all of them returned. Though he did not strike the killing blow, their blood is still on his hands.

It's why he has thrown himself into the rebuilding of the castle. So many other have pitched in, of course, but Horace feel like he cannot do enough. So, he does everything. He stretches himself thin because he _has _to ensure that they did not die for nothing. He has to be worthy, has to find redemption in one way or another.

He thinks he might break. Though the stones have been scrubbed clean, he is all too aware that they had been littered with blood only days ago. He can still so vividly recall the injured and the dead.

Colin Creevey was just a boy, so small in death.

Nymphadora Tonks' smile never faded, even as the light from her eyes went out.

So many dead. Too many. And he is still alive when they should be instead.

"Come, dear." She rests a hand on his shoulder. "Have a drink with me."

Horace shakes his head. "There is too much work to do. I can't… I must… I must…"

Minerva presses a kiss to his cheek. "I was not asking." She takes him gently by the hand. "Dinner. A drink. I think we both need the company."

He wants to protest. He cannot rest until he has been absolved and everything is right again.

But he doesn't. She's right. He needs someone now, and Minerva has always been so lovely. "I suppose a drink won't hurt."


	45. Why Not Us (Deamus)

_Word Count: 392_

* * *

"Hold my hand," Dean says.

Seamus turns to him, brows raised curiously. He does as instructed, though, melting a little at the way Dean smiles.

These moments are rare. There are still those who would look at two men together and see it as wrong. But they steal their little moments and find places where they can be themselves. Today, it's at a pub near Dean's neighborhood. The West Ham match is on. Seamus doesn't understand how the Muggle boxes show moving pictures (which Dean has explained that most Muggles don't actually understand it either), but he likes to watch.

"Not that I'm complaining," Seamus says, brushing his thumb over Dean's knuckles affectionately, "but why am I holding your hand?"

Dean grins. "Because I'm so happy that I'm afraid I might float away."

Seamus laughs. He understands that so well. There's a certain freedom that comes with loving Dean. Some days, it makes him feel weightless. Others, he thinks the butterflies in his stomach might lend him their wings and lift him into the air.

The waitress comes with their plates. Seamus reluctantly lets go of Dean's hand. "You know," he says when they are alone again, "I hear there are countries where no one would even blink if two blokes were holding hands."

Dean shrugs. "I don't want another country. I want this one." He dips a chip in ketchup before popping it into his mouth and eating it with a content smile. "I want to be able to walk down the street with my boyfriend, and I want to know that Mrs. Marshall down the street is still going to smile at me and mean it when she wishes me a good morning."

Seamus considers this in silence. He nods. "Then let's do it."

"What?"

"Nothing is going to change if we keep sitting around and waiting for it to happen. Change has to start somewhere, right? Why not with us?"

He can see the nervousness flash through Dean's eyes. It's terrifying, but maybe it's crazy enough to work. He knows enough about history to know that revolution only happens when people take action. Why shouldn't they?

"Why not us?" Dean echoes, smiling.

And when the waitress returns to refill their drinks, they are holding hands, unconcerned with anyone who may not like the idea of them being in love.


	46. Shine On (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 450_

* * *

Blaise's eyes are fixed upon the pond, watching sunlight glisten over the ripples. It's beautiful and peaceful, one of his favorite things about Nott Manor. He's so caught up that he barely even notices when someone moves beside him.

"Why is it whenever I'm having fun, it's wrong?" Daphne asks with a huff.

He glances over at her. She squints against the sunlight for several seconds before lowering her sunglasses over her eyes.

"What have you done now?" he asks, brows raising.

Daphne has a strange way of looking at the world. It isn't enough for her to hold progressive thoughts (if he's honest, Blaise is happy that she does; they need to move forward and find better ways to live because the old ways were not good enough). She has to be loud with her beliefs and pick fights. Blaise wonders how much she really means it. Sometimes, he thinks she likes to just stir the cauldron, hoping for an explosion. Maybe it's just a game to her, and she will always see herself as a winner because she has the moral high ground.

"Me?" She bats her eyelashes and smiles so sweetly that Blaise almost believes it. "I would _never_."

He laughs. "Right. And I'm the Muggle queen."

Daphne grins and curtsies. "Your Highness."

Blaise shakes his head. She really is ridiculous, but it's just one more reason why he loves her. Like he even needs another reason. "Come on, Daph," he presses, glancing over his shoulder. He can see Theo standing at the back door of the manor, hands up, trying to soothe his grandmother. Admittedly, Deidre Nott is easy to set off, but she looks particularly vengeful today. "The old hag looks like she might actually murder you."

Daphne looks back, lifting her shades as if to get a better view. She purses her lips. "Oh, dear." With a shrug, she returns her attention to the pond, her shades falling over her eyes once again. "I may or may not have implied… _just a teensy bit… _that I know a Muggle hairdresser who could have saved her mess of a hairdo. Honestly, that style is a crime against nature."

Blaise swallows down a laugh. It's something so minor, but he can only imagine the passion Daphne put into delivering that particular sting. He shouldn't condone it because it isn't proper, but damn, his fiance is brilliant. She is a fireball, and he never wants to dim her light.

With a grin, he leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips. "We should probably go. She's heading this way."

Daphne looks back once again. "Isn't she like a hundred? Why is she moving so fast?"

"Let's go."


	47. Dramatic (Jily)

_Word Count: 361_

* * *

James groans, and Lily resists the urge to roll her eyes. Truth be told, to injury isn't even that bad. For the most part, it's no longer bleeding; it only looks bad because the blood hasn't been washed away.

They wouldn't even be at St. Mungo's under ordinary circumstances. Unfortunately, these are not ordinary. Lily doesn't know exactly what scratched him, and they don't want to take any chances. Still, she's more than a little certain her husband is milking it.

"I'm dying, Lils," he says with a dramatic sniffles. "Goodbye, cruel world. Merlin! I'm so young!"

"Shut up. You aren't dying."

He frowns. "Heartless."

Lily rolls her eyes, but she can't fight the smile that tugs at her lips. She loves him, but he really is hopeless. With a chuckle, she tucks her auburn hair behind her ear. "Keep it up, and you'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight," she says dryly.

That's all it takes. James continues to scowl his annoyance, but he is blissfully quiet.

The Healer comes in and examines his arm. She runs a quick diagnostic spell before chuckling and summoning a vial of Essence of Dittany and dabbing it on the jagged cut. The skin begins forming over the wound.

"Don't you need to… I dunno… I feel like I need something more than that? Something for poison? An injection?" James' dark brows knit together in confusion.

"It's just a cut," the Healer says, smiling at him. "Nothing special or magical about it. A little dittany, and you'll be as good as new."

Lily covers her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter. So much fussing and fretting, and it's just a regular cut. James really is more dramatic than he needs to be.

"Oi!" James reaches out, lightly poking her arm. "Don't laugh. I could have died!"

"Keep telling yourself that." She turns to the Healer. "Thank you. Come on, James. And, since you aren't losing your arm, you're on dishes duty when we get home."

The pout on his lips is all she needs. It's been a strange and hectic evening, but at least it's over. At least they can get back to normal.


	48. Birthday Banter (HarryKingsley)

_For my darling Bex. Thanks for being an absolute angel. _

_Word Count: 633_

* * *

The inside of their new home is still like a maze. Boxes are stacked high, and none of them are against the wall and out of the way. Still, Kingsley can navigate them well enough. He grips the cake, carefully maneuvering and shifting his body this way and that. Some of the crimson icing catches on his beige shirt, but it's okay. It isn't the end of the world.

Harry is outside, sitting on the table on the patio. He absently nibbles a Chocolate Frog, seeming to lose himself in thought. There's a pile of candy wrappers on the table in front of him. Maybe Kingsley shouldn't have gotten a cake. It seems like Harry has been indulging in his sweet tooth today already.

But it's his birthday. He's allowed to enjoy himself.

Harry glances up at him, grinning as he holds up a Chocolate Frog card. "I got you again."

Kingsley rolls his eyes. His portrait on the card is terrible. Every time Harry gets one, Kingsley tosses it in the bin the first chance he gets. "You already have me," he chuckles, setting the cake down.

Harry licks his lips. "You may not have put candles on it, but you won't stop me from making a wish. I want a puppy."

"No."

"So… Two puppies?" Harry asks, brows raising.

Kingsley shakes his head, fighting a laugh. It's so easy to be enamored with him. Harry has truly come a long way. Gone are the days of being the awkward, nervous Chosen One. He has really grown into someone so confident, and Kingsley loves him more than he ever thought possible.

"I like that thing you're doing with your voice, Kingsley," Harry says, cutting through the silence. "It's sexy."

Kingsley sits across from him, confused. "I didn't say anything."

"Exactly. It's sexy when you aren't telling me no."

"Oh, you think you're smooth now," Kingsley teases.

He loves how natural this is. By now, he can't even remember what his life was like before Harry. After the war, he had become Minister, and Harry had gone into Auror training. Their paths crossed again and again, and eventually one thing led to another.

He's grateful for it. Things had been so stressful after the war. How many funerals had he gone to? How many times did he have to promise families and loved ones that they would heal, that they would somehow find strength. It had been draining, but Harry had been there for him.

Against all odds, Kingsley had found a light in the darkness. That light still shines on, and he knows he would be lost without his boyfriend.

"You're staring," Harry says.

Kingsley offers him a soft smile. "Sorry. Come on. Let's eat."

Harry smirks before gesturing at the cake. "No plates," he points out. "Unless you plan on being my plate."

Kingsley snorts before drawing his wand and summoning the necessary plates, knives, and forks. He cuts Harry a piece first, then one for himself.

"I didn't really wish for a puppy," Harry says, digging into his slice.

"Don't tell me what you wished for," Kingsley says. "It won't come true."

Harry shakes his head. "That's the thing. I didn't wish for anything at all. Why would I? I already have everything I could ever want or need right here with you."

That seems to melt Kingsley's heart. A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through his stomach, and he finds himself smiling. At least he knows that Harry feels the same.

He leans back in his chair, watching the wind chimes dance in the soft breeze, their melody filling the summer air. He has a good life. Harry is by his side. The world is slowly but surely growing brighter.

This is what it means to finally know true peace.


	49. Kind Eyes and a Soft Smile (FrankAlice)

_Word Count: 511_

* * *

_There is a boy with kind eyes and a soft smile. He takes a seat beside her, and her smile brightens. "I'm Frank," he says, his cheeks flushing pink. _

_"Alice," she tells him. _

…

Alice.

That is the word that comes to her mind sometimes. Her brain is broken, but something within her stirs.

"I…" She tips her head to the side, blinking rapidly as the words struggle to crawl up her throat. "I'm Alice."

…

_"Well, what did you expect?" she asks, eyes rolling. "You went swimming in the lake. In December. All because James Potter dared you?"_

_Frank groans but accepts the vial of Pepperup from the Healer. He sniffles. "Seemed like a good idea."_

_Despite herself, Alice laughs. He is ridiculous, but maybe that's why she likes him so much. So, when the Healer isn't looking, Alice kisses his cheek. "You're hopeless," she says._

_"Hopelessly in love with you."_

…

She climbs out of bed and steps outside. Frank is here. He still has kind eyes and a soft smile, but Alice thinks that something has broken in his mind too.

They are damaged. That's the word the old lady with the bird hat uses. She looks so sad when she says it.

And she always has a boy with her. A boy who has Frank's kind eyes and soft smile.

…

_"You say something? Alright, pipe down! You're under arrest." Frank glowers as he says it, and the expression is so ridiculous that Alice doubles over, giggling._

_"Oi! I'm practicing my Auror face," he grumbles._

_Alice laughs even harder. She presses a quick kiss to his lips. "Very menacing," she teases. "As frightening as a baby unicorn."_

_"Watch it," he says, brows raising. "I'll have to arrest you too."_

_She grins, adjusting her Department of Magical Law Enforcement badge. "I'd like to see you try."_

…

"Frank?"

Does he remember? They are broken, but if she remembers, maybe there is hope for him.

"Frank?"

Silence.

Then again, it is night. Maybe he is asleep. Maybe the dreams don't keep him awake.

Maybe he will never remember her.

…

_They dance under the moonlight. Her stomach is larger now, and Frank rests his hand on it._

_"Soon," he says._

_Alice grins. "Our Neville," she murmurs._

_In that moment, everything is perfect._

…

"You shouldn't be out of bed, dear," the Healer says, taking Alice by the hand.

"Frank?" She blinks, frowning. "Where is Frank?"

"Bed, dear. You can see him in the morning."

"Frank! Where is Frank?" she screams, frantic.

"I need help! Someone bring me a sleeping potion!"

…

_When Neville is born, Frank is there, holding a bouquet of scarlet roses. "I thought you might like these," he says softly, smiling as he moves closer. "So, this is him. Our Neville."_

_"Isn't he perfect?" she whispers. _

_"Just like his mother."_

…

She wakes with a start, her vision blurry as she looks around.

She recalls kind eyes and a soft smile, and there is a name on her tongue, but she can't remember it at all.


	50. For Luck (PadmaLuna)

_Word Count: 389_

* * *

Padma can't remember how long she's been in the library, staring at the book. Too long. The words seem to float in front of her, twisting themselves into strings of nonsense. Studying for her entrance exam to become an ambassador between wizards and various magical beings isn't at all like studying for one of Flitwick's exams. She can't remember the last time she slept for more than three hours.

"I thought you might need this."

Padma looks up, grinning at the familiar voice. Luna stands before her, holding out a cup of coffee. A quick sniff of the steam rising from the to-go cup confirms that it has cinnamon in it. Padma's favorite.

"Luna, you're my hero," Padma says, gesturing for her girlfriend to sit.

She doesn't know what she would do without Luna. Her studies have been hard, but Luna has stayed by her side, always offering her support and encouragement.

"Unpopular opinion," Padma says, sipping the coffee, "but coffee is better than tea."

Luna makes a face but doesn't argue. She just leans back in her chair and studies Padma with wide, curious eyes. "You're wearing the charm," she says.

Padma shrugs and lifts the silver chain, revealing the strange trinket Luna gave her for her eighteenth birthday. Luna says it keeps Wrackspurts away. Padma doesn't believe in them, but she keeps the necklace on because it makes her think of Luna.

"There are fewer Wrackspurts," Luna notes. "Have you found it easier to study today."

Padma nods. Truthfully, it's been about the same, but the way Luna smiles and looks pleased with herself warms her heart. How could Padma ruin it.

"Tomorrow is the big day."

Another nod. Padma feels her stomach tighten. "You're just in time to witness my mental breakdown." She tries to keep her tone light and teasing, but her voice cracks and betrays her nerves. "Merlin, Luna. I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," Luna says, and her tone is so matter-of-fact that Padma can't help but believe.

It's still terrifying. There's so much that could go wrong, and her doubts keep creeping into her mind, relentless and without mercy. But Luna makes it less scary. There's a soft smile and warm, dreamy eyes, and that is enough.

"Kiss me, just once, for luck?" Padma asks.

Luna smiles. "Happily."


	51. Emphasis on Sweet (BillFleur)

_Word Count: 318_

* * *

It's the first time in fifteen years that they've come home to an empty house without one of the kids. Fleur stands in the doorway, trying to wrap her head around it.

"Home sweet home," Bill says with a soft chuckle. "You hear that?"

Fleur tips her head to the side, straining her ears. "I do not hear hear anything," she says, lips tugging into a soft frown.

Her husband wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer and kissing her cheek. "Exactly," he says. "When has it ever been this quiet?"

Fleur considers. Truthfully, she can't remember anymore. Their children get along for the most part, but they are still siblings. There has been so much random, petty sibling drama over the years, and it feels like maybe her memories are stained with chaos.

She chuckles. _Chaos. _From Dominique taking Victoire's eyeliner without permission and using it as lipstick, to Louis trying to fix breakfast and nearly burning the house down. Once, she had worried that motherhood might make her lose her mind. Now, she misses the constant noise. It hasn't even been a full day, and she doesn't know how to cope with an empty house.

"What do we do?" she asks.

Bill considers, brushing his thumb over his chin pensively. He steps forward, his foot coming down on an action figure Louis has left behind. Even without the kids, there is still a subtle element of chaos. Good. Fleur can't imagine life any other way.

Her husband glances at her, a conspiratorial grin playing at his lips as he gestures toward the cake on the kitchen table. "Cake for dinner?" he suggests, raising his eyebrows.

Fleur closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her husband. "You are a child," she teases affectionately.

"You didn't say no."

With a laugh, she draws her wand, summoning a knife and two plates. "Of course I didn't."


	52. Say Yes (Tedromeda)

_Word Count: 332_

* * *

She has always been a good girl, the perfect daughter. Andromeda cannot remember a time where she didn't put her family first, where she didn't sacrifice her own wants and desires so that the Black family's reputation remained intact.

Now, however, she wants to leave it all behind. There is something about Ted that makes her realize that some things are more important.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, the engagement ring is still in her boyfriend's nervously trembling hand. This is her chance. Shouldn't she put herself first for once? Shouldn't she stop trying to please everyone else around her and focus on her own happiness?

Her fingers brush over her violet blouse, and she swallows. It should be easy. It's just one word with one syllable, and she should be able to say it without hesitation.

"I'm not supposed to marry for love," she tells him, her voice barely audible.

"Doesn't love sound so much more fun than marrying for duty?"

He's right. Of course he's right. Once, Andromeda had dreamt of choosing who she loved. Her parents told her that things have to be this way, and Andromeda, ever the faithful daughter, the good and dutiful one, didn't want to disappoint them.

What's changed? What has given her the courage to turn her back on everything she has ever known? What has made her parents' approval suddenly so meaningless?

Edward Paul Tonks. A plain name for a Muggleborn. Nothing grand or exciting. Nothing like what Andromeda is meant to want.

But she does want him. She wants him so much that it causes a physical pain in her chest. Even when she is near him, it isn't enough and she is left wanting more.

And now the engagement ring rests against her finger. All she has to do is say yes.

So she does, and for once in her life, she doesn't care if her parents will hate her for it.


	53. Because (HarryPiers)

_For Pairing the Character: HarryPiers_

_Word Count: 793_

_Warning: mentions of abuse_

* * *

"Hey! Hey, Potter!" Piers calls, following after the other boy.

After the moment at the park, the others went their separate ways. Piers had asked Dudley if he wanted to go after Harry, to teach the idiot a lesson about interrupting. In the end, Dudley had said no. Piers doesn't understand why the days of Harry Hunting are far behind them, or why Dudley looked so freaked out when Harry pulled out the weird stick.

There are a lot of other things he doesn't understand, of course. Why is he following Harry now? What is it about the other boy that draws him in? Doesn't he only miss Harry Hunting because it gave him a chance to touch Harry?

The thoughts and questions flood his mind, annoying him further. He quickens his pace, fingers curling inward to form fists. "I'm talking to you, Potter!"

"Really?" Harry asks without turning to look at him. "I thought you were shouting at me."

Snarky bastard. When did he get so brave?

Piers catches up easily enough and grips Harry's shoulder. Harry isn't so scrawny anymore; though he isn't muscular or bulky, he has definitely grown up into something more than the fearful little boy kept under the stairs. His emerald eyes flash in annoyance when he turns to face Piers.

"What?" Harry demands.

But Piers doesn't have an answer. His breath hitches, and his lungs seem to forget how to function. All Piers can do is stare at him, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

_Fuck._

"Right," Harry says sharply, pulling out of Piers' grip. "If you haven't got anything to say, I'll just be—"

His sentence dies. Harry shivers and looks off in the distance. Before Piers can attempt to make sense of the sudden change in Harry's demeanor, he feels the temperature drop several degrees. Emotions flicker through Harry's eyes; he is afraid, but he also seems to understand what is happening.

Harry takes Piers by the hand. "Run."

But Piers can't seem to move. The chill sinks deeper into his body, freezing him in place.

"Piers! Run!"

The chill changes to something else, something so much worse. Dread washes over him, and the world is suddenly drained of all its glorious color.

_"Useless! Absolutely useless!" His mother screams as she digs her nails into his arm. "Get up, you worthless thing! Up!"_

She's dead. She's dead, and this can't be real.

_"Outside!" Four-year-old Piers is still in urine-soaked pajamas when his father tosses him out into the snow. "And you can stay there all night, boy. Piss wherever you bloody feel like, since you're too stupid to use a toilet."_

Piers is vaguely aware of pain shooting through his body. Has he fallen? He can't be sure. It feels like there is a weight on him, like a giant block of ice has been lowered onto his chest.

_"You'll never amount to anything," his mother says with a sneer as she locks him in his room._

Oh, she had been right. What does he have to show for his life? He is a bully, a twisted and broken boy who only knows how to hurt others. His cousin and guardian Max swears again and again that Piers is worthy of love, that he can be something amazing, but Piers doesn't see it.

Piers can hear Harry, but the other boy sounds so far away. Harry's words are strange and don't even seem to be English at all. Latin, maybe? In the back of his mind, he thinks it sounds like something Mr. Carson, his old Latin teacher, might say.

The weight is gone. Slowly but surely, the chill seems to fade. He's vaguely aware that Harry is beside him.

"Can you hear me?"

Piers blinks and shudders. "Cold," he mutters.

"Come on. Get up. Eat some chocolate and you'll feel better."

Piers doesn't try to move. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Harry close. The other boy tenses, no doubt aware that Piers' hands have been used only for destruction for so long.

He doesn't want to be that way anymore. He's tired of hurting everyone because he's been hurt. He wants to hold Harry in another way, in a way he is still so afraid to admit, even to himself.

"Don't leave me," Piers whispers. "Please…"

_Say it, you coward._

"I want you to stay with me," he says.

_Because I love you. Because I always have. Because I only beat you up because if I admitted the truth, I would have been a target._

"Because I'm scared."

Maybe he'll be able to tell the truth one day. For now, he was take comfort in something that isn't a total lie, and he will take baby steps until he is a better person.


	54. Fair Trade (Jily)

_Word Count: 377_

* * *

Lily scowls to herself as she chops the onions. There's a spell to make it go much faster, but she prefers it the Muggle way. At the moment, she is annoyed with James, and there's something comforting about the motions of the knife. Her eyes flicker out the window. The grey skies have darkened further, and rain mercilessly pounds against the house.

James should have been home an hour ago.

"Lils? Hey, sorry I'm late!"

Lily turns, still dripping the knife. She scowls when she sees her husband, dripping wet and making a mess on the floor.

"I can't believe you did that," she says, eyes narrowing. "Not only did you get home late without a word, now you're all wet, and just… James Potter, you are an irritating man!"

"I can fix that," he tells her, and Lily only notices the box in his hands when he sets it aside. He retrieves his wand and mutters a quick spell that leaves both him and the floor dry. "See? All better."

Lily shrugs. She knows she has been too hard on James, but her husband can feel like a real handful sometimes.

"Would you like to know why I'm late?"

She nods. "I thought something happened to you." It's an admission she hates making, but it's a sad truth. The war means she never knows which goodbye might be her last.

James' expression is something between pain and sadness. Still, he smiles, and it's enough to make her relax, if only a little. "Oh, Lily. You know not even ol' Moldyshorts can keep me away from you."

She laughs, though the sound is dry and strained. "I suppose in just being silly."

James reaches out and grabs the box again, grinning. "I thought it was such a gloomy day. What could be better than doughnuts on a day like this?" He opens the box, revealing a dozen chocolate glazed doughnuts. "I couldn't remember which filling you liked. Had to find Remus to help me."

Lily takes one, biting into it. The Bavarian cream is sweet on her tongue. A satisfied moan escapes her lips.

"Am I forgiven?" James asks.

She takes another bite, smiling. "Doughnuts in exchange for forgiveness?" she teases. "I'd say that's a fair trade."


	55. Complete (RegBatty)

_Word Count: 458_

* * *

Regulus circles overhead, gripping his broom handle as he searches among the blurred figures. Streaks of color zoom through the air, but he isn't concerned with them. His eyes narrow. All he needs is to catch the Snitch.

Won't that be something? It's his first match, and he would love to be the one to catch the Snitch and lead his team to victory.

_"I'm depending on you," his Captain had said._

And he will make Damion Flint proud. He will prove himself.

Regulus adjusts the straps to his goggles, wincing. His scalp is already slightly sunburnt from all the training they've done throughout the week. It only takes a second to try and rub away the pain, but that is more than enough time for the Ravenclaw Beater to take advantage of his vulnerability.

He never sees the Bludger coming. There's a sudden _crack _as pain explodes in his left shoulder. He loses his grip, and the last thing remembers is falling into darkness.

…

"There you are."

Regulus groans and rubs his eyes. Barty's face grins down at him.

"I was worried about you," Barty says.

Regulus sits up, his blanket sliding off his body. There's still some pain, but, for the most part, he seems to be back to normal. "If you loved me, you would have brought me chocolate instead of sympathy," he groans, offering his boyfriend a soft smile.

Barty reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing gently. "Don't even think about doubting my love for you, Reg." His tone is teasing and light, but Regulus can see flash of fear flicker through Barty's pale eyes.

It's an insecurity that Barty may never get over. He always seems to think that he is somehow not good enough for Regulus, that he is not worthy. Regulus has told him countless times how dare he is. If only Barty would believe it.

"You know I love you," Regulus tells him, leaning back in his bed once again. "You always seem to balance me out."

"Because I'm the sane, sensible one, and you're a headstrong git?" Barty asks, smiling at him.

That's the smile Regulus loves and cherishes. He doesn't know what he would do without that smile in his life. At the end of the day, Barty is the only thing that seems to keep him down to earth.

"Because you complete me," Regulus says.

Maybe there's a part of him that has always felt like something was missing in his life. He never understood what it was until he met Barty, until he found love without selfishness or expectations. All Barty ever seems to want to be loved and to love in return.

And Regulus is more than happy to give him that love.


	56. Joyful Night (HarryKingsley)

_Word Count: 424_

* * *

It's hard not to feel disappointed. It's his and Kingsley's first Christmas together. By some miracle, Harry managed to leave the Auror office early enough to get started on the festivities.

There are minimal decorations, but Christmas cheer can be seen throughout the house. The Christmas tree is decorated, and gifts rest beneath its branches. A sprig of mistletoe dangles above the entryway into the living room. It really is perfect…

Except, unfortunately, Kingsley won't be home until much later. Harry should have expected it; of course someone like the Minister of Magic would be busy. It's all part of the job description.

Still, Harry refuses to let it get him down. He's forced himself to maintain a positive attitude because it's still Christmas. Maybe Kingsley isn't here yet, and they can't set about, enjoying the holiday and making new traditions together. Kingsley will be home eventually. Harry can take the time to make sure everything is perfect.

There's a shuffling sound near the front door. Instinct takes over, and Harry draws his wand, pointing it, poised and ready to attack. It's been six years since Voldemort's defeat, and four years since the last recorded Death Eater activity. He hasn't forgotten; he will never forget.

The door opens, and Harry shouts, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Instead of a wand, a bottle of champagne soars through the air, shattering against the wall. Kingsley chuckles. "Someone needs to remind me not to try and surprise you," he muses.

Harry's cheeks flush with heated color. He takes a step back, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. "That…" He clears his throat. "That was not my intention."

Kingsley just grins and steps inside. "Unfortunately, I don't have a spare bottle," he says. "That was a gift from Rosmerta, by the way."

"Oops."

Kingsley reaches out and pulls Harry into a hug. "Oops," he agrees.

Harry holds onto his boyfriend for a moment before stepping away, brows raising. "What are you doing home?" he asks. "You said you were swamped with paperwork."

"I lied." Kingsley winks. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you definitely succeeded."

Kingsley looks around. A content smile plays at his lips as he takes in the subtle decorations. "You've been busy."

With a chuckle, Harry shrugs. "A bit, yeah."

Something catches Kingsley's eye. He rests his hands on Harry's shoulders, gently guiding him back. "Mistletoe," he says before leaning down, kissing Harry. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Kingsley."

And as joy spreads through him, he knows he could never have a more perfect night than this.


	57. Dancing Queen (DeanGabrielle)

_Word Count: 451_

* * *

First comes cooking. Dean arrives home from work with takeaway boxes in his hands and a growling stomach. His wife rounds on him, eyes narrowing when she sees that he has brought dinner home.

"I am cooking for you!" Gabrielle says with a huff. "It is spaghetti and meatballs! Your favorite."

Dean hesitates. He loves his wife, but she doesn't have a domestic bone in her body. Being forced to take time off from work because of her pregnancy must have really driven her absolutely mad. "Ah. I didn't know you knew how to cook," he says.

She smiles brightly. "I don't!"

Cautiously, Dean moves closer. The pasta has been boiled to the point that a sludge has formed in the water, and the noodles have clumped together, forming one giant block of spaghetti.

He forces a smile because he would never hurt her feelings. "It looks delicious, honey."

…

Her attempts at pottery aren't much better. When Dean comes down for breakfast (cereal and milk, because they both ended up with food poisoning after the spaghetti nightmare) there is clay splattering the walls. Gabrielle's pale arms are covered in a layer of grey-brown.

"I think you're supposed to use a drop cloth," he suggests.

"I know what I'm doing!"

He thinks that she really doesn't, but he knows better than to argue. Gabrielle is small, but she is fiery. Sometimes it's best to just let her do her own thing.

…

She's been attempting to knit for a solid hour, but all that she has managed is to tangle the violet yarn into a nasty knot around the gold knitting needles.

"Why are you so determined to find a new hobby?" he asks curiously.

Gabrielle lets out a frustrated groan. "Because I am bored, and I am miserable, and I worry that I am going to lose my mind!"

He softens. It makes sense. Dean can't remember ever seeing Gabrielle stuck like this. She has always been so active, so full of life. He imagines would be just as bored, just as restless in her position.

"Hey." He wraps an arm around his wife, pulling her gently against him and kissing her cheek. "We're going to figure it out."

…

Dean stands in the doorway of the dance class, watching with a smile on his lips. Gabrielle stands among other pregnant women, dancing along to the music. She looks absolutely beautiful as she moves this way and that, easily nailing each move.

It has taken them a month, but Gabrielle has found her creative outlet. As she moves, she smiles, and he can see the absolute joy in her eyes.

Gabrielle has found her passion, and Dean couldn't be happier.


	58. Broken Pieces (BlaiseLucius)

_Word Count: 518_

* * *

"How do you like your steak?" Blaise asks, dripping some of the marinade onto the skillet and listening to the sizzle.

"Medium rare," Lucius answers, his tone dry and uncaring.

"Huh." Blaise drops the meat onto the skillet. "An aristocrat."

He sees the way Lucius winces, like it's supposed to be a jab. Maybe he sees everything as an attack. Once, Lucius Malfoy had been a king in his own right. He had lived in luxury.

Then came several poor choices. Now Lucius is a broken man with a shattered reputation. The only reason he isn't rotting in Azkaban is because Harry Potter saved the entire family.

And yet, somehow, Blaise still wants him.

Lucius pours another glass of wine, drinking deeply.

…

"You drink too much," Blaise notes when Lucius downs his third glass of Scotch.

"You talk too much."

Maybe it hurts, but Blaise is too bloody proud to admit it. He just shrugs it off. He doesn't care if it hurts. All he wants is Lucius, and he will have him.

…

"Why are you always around?" Lucius demands.

Blaise smirks and steps closer. "I think you know the answer to that."

They're both trying to escape in their own way. Lucius drinks so that he doesn't have to face his own failures, so that he doesn't have to acknowledge that he's lost everything. Blaise chases after a man because if he can save Lucius then maybe he can find penance for not saving Theo during the war.

"I don't need you."

"Maybe not." Blaise reaches out, fingers tangling in Lucius' platinum blond locks. He pulls the older man closer. "But you want me."

Their eyes meet. Silently, Blaise dares Lucius to prove him wrong.

He doesn't. Instead, their lips press together, more bruising than caring, and Blaise fucking loves it. He has finally forced even the faintest spark of passion from Lucius.

He laughs into the kiss, and Lucius pins him against the wall.

"This doesn't mean anything," Lucius growls in his ear before his lips find Blaise's neck.

…

Night after night, it doesn't mean anything. He falls into Lucius' bed, but he's out the door before the sun rises.

This isn't right, but he doesn't care. His mother never taught him what love is supposed to look like, and he will take what he can get.

…

Blaise lights a cigarette as he sits up in bed.

"Only a fool would stay aboard a sinking ship," Lucius says, and there's a coldness in his voice that sends daggers into Blaise's heart.

"Not if there's a chance the ship can be fixed."

Lucius laughs at that. "Is that your plan? Make me your little project and try to put me back together again?"

Blaise's cheeks burn. He shrugs. "I think I should go."

To his surprise, Lucius catches him by the wrist. "Stay."

He sounds so lost, so desperate, that Blaise couldn't even dream of saying no.

This isn't a conventional kind of romance. There is pain and loneliness and so many broken pieces. But it is his, and he loves it anyway.


	59. Take It Slow (DracoDaphne)

_Word Count: 764_

* * *

Daphne tries not to laugh when Draco groans. "Not you," he grumbles. "Why's it have to be you?"

Daphne tucks her curls behind her ears. "You should be honored by my company," she says, poking him lightly in the chest. "Now, come along."

After the war, they all ended up in one program or another. Daphne's loyalty during the battle had landed her in a mentoring program. All mentors find themselves assigned to a dark witch or wizard who show potential for rehabilitation. Thanks to Harry's testimony, Draco and his mother make that list.

"Fine. Come in, I guess." He steps aside, allowing her entry. "Would you like some tea?"

She raises her brows, amusement clear in her green eyes. "You actually know how to use a kettle?"

The blush that stains his cheeks her grin. Of course he doesn't. Draco Malfoy isn't the wicked villain everyone makes him out to be, but he is most definitely spoiled.

"Don't worry," she tells him, moving past him and into the kitchen.

"Sure. Make yourself at home," Draco quips dryly. "Whatever you want."

…

They sit at the table. Daphne's eyes flicker over the sticky notes that cover various surfaces of the house. Bright bits of paper cling to walls, bottles of wine, mirrors, all with little messily scrawled notes.

"I am not domestic," Draco says, noticing her staring.

"Where is your mother?"

"With her sister." Draco makes a face at that, like he doesn't know how to react to Andromeda Tonks being in his mother's life. "This was all too much on her, so her sister took her in."

"Andromeda is part of our program," Daphne says. "How lucky that your mother gets a familiar face."

"_Our program._" Draco sneers. "What's so good about it? They feast on human flesh."

Daphne sips her tea, eyes rolling. "Right. Yes. We are definitely cannibals, and you aren't the least bit dramatic."

Draco scowls. He plucks a biscuit from the tray, nibbling it in silence. He hadn't asked for the biscuits, but Daphne has the feeling he wouldn't have thought of it. This place doesn't feel like a home, and, given what she knows about Lucius Malfoy, she imagines it probably hasn't felt very warm and welcoming in Draco's life.

"Just tell them I'm better," he says.

"It's not that simple."

"Well, it should be."

Daphne sighs.

…

During her next visit, there is less dust. The kitchen table has a glossy shine to it. What catches her eye, however, is that the yellow sticky note on the table is gone.

"I tried to bake cookies," Draco tells her. "The oven caught fire."

She laughs, trying to imagine Draco frantically trying to extinguish the flames. "It's the thought that counts."

He rolls his eyes. "People only say that to make people feel better."

…

Slowly but surely, the sticky notes disappear. Malfoy Manor begins to look like a home again, and Draco doesn't look so haunted. Daphne watches the change, and she can't help but smile.

Has Draco ever looked this happy? She can't remember. All she knows is the Dark Lord left so many scars on his soul, but he is healing.

"I like your visits," he tells her. "They make me better."

"Good," she says.

A moment passes. Draco summons a bottle of wine. "To celebrate?"

"What are we celebrating?"

"The fact that I feel alive again."

…

She doesn't know when Malfoy Manor begins to feel like home, or when Draco becomes so significant in her life. On her final visit, she lets herself in.

"You'll be happy to know that you have passed your evaluation," she says, grinning. "I'm proud of you."

Draco moves closer. "You're still going to come around, aren't you?"

She hadn't even considered it. Though they were in the same House and year at Hogwarts, she and Draco, they were never friends. They've spent more time together in the past few weeks than they have in their school years.

"I've been thinking." He takes her hand, and she feels a flutter ripple through her stomach. "I just want something permanent. I want something real. And I think… I think I want you."

"You don't need to go rushing into things," she says because she remembers her training and long lectures on impulsive behavior.

"Who's rushing?" he asks. "We can take this as slow as we need to."

It isn't the most romantic start to a relationship, but Daphne doesn't mind. It comes from the heart, and she can see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm open to taking things slow."


	60. Out of the Rain (CedricAngelina)

_Word Count: 431_

* * *

It starts with a little drizzle. Angelina doesn't let it ruin her day. Just because Quidditch is cancelled for the year, it doesn't mean she can rest. Oliver has left behind his legacy, and she'll be damned if she lets him down now.

She maneuvers through the air, squinting against the rain as she turns this way and that. Quidditch matches don't stop for a little fall of rain, and neither will she. Oliver would be proud of her. If he was at Hogwarts, she knows he would be right there with her.

Thunder rumbles, a little too close for comfort. Angelina swears softly under her breath. Rain is fine. Thunder usually brings lightning, and she doesn't want to deal with that. Still, she flies over the pitch once more before allowing herself to touch down on the ground.

By the time she reaches the castle, she's drenched to the bone and shivering. Maybe flying in the rain wasn't such a good idea.

"I think Wood would be proud."

She looks up, startled by the voice. Cedric Diggory approaches her, shrugging out of his jacket and offering it to her. "I'm not sure that will do much good," she tells him, but she accepts it anyway.

"Well, best to take it, unless you're just determined to get sick from the weather," he says.

Angelina feels her cheeks burn despite the chill in her body. It's hard not to notice how handsome Cedric is; everyone knows it. She had never imagined that he would be so kind as well. Warmth seems to radiate from his smile, and she feels like he genuinely cares about her wellbeing.

"Thank you," she says, and she laughs when she realizes she's still awkwardly holding his jacket. She slips it on. "Sorry. I'm a bit…"

But she doesn't know what she wants to say, and it only makes her giggle more. Merlin! She must look like she's absolutely barking.

"A bit wonderful?" he supplies.

"Now you're just being cute," she says with a roll of her eyes.

Cedric shrugs. "Only speaking the truth." He pushes a hand through his hair. "Look, I know we don't really know each other well, and we're meant to be Quidditch rivals and all… But would you like to come to the Three Broomsticks with me this weekend? I would love to buy you lunch."

"As… As a date?"

He grins. "Yeah."

"I'd like that," she says.

As they part ways, she finds herself still grinning and clinging to his jacket. Maybe going out in the rain was worth it after all.


	61. Bad For You (KingselyBellatrix)

_Word Count: 520_

* * *

Kingsley hesitates, tapping his fingers against the wand in his pocket. He knows that she is chained and unarmed, but the reminder of his extra layer of security is a welcome reassurance.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he mutters to himself.

But he already knows the answer. He knows exactly why he is in Azkaban, standing outside an interrogation room that holds one of Voldemort's most demented followers.

He still remembers her as something more. Once, in their younger years, Bellatrix had been beautiful and softer. Maybe she was never quite _good_, but she wasn't this. She wasn't so bloody broken that she's almost a complete stranger.

"Auror Shacklebolt?"

Kingsley nods, offering the senior Auror a small, shaky smile. "Yes. Sorry." He quickly steps inside.

"And there he is," Bellatrix says, lips twisting into a grotesque smile. "I was wondering when my fearless little lion would show up."

Kingsley sits across from her. He can't bring himself to speak for several moments. Just looking at her makes his heart break.

She laughs, clearly taking joy in his discomfort. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She leans in, resting her elbows on the table, the silver chains clanking noisily. "Come now. You were never this shy around me before."

"Why did you do it, Bella?" he whispers.

The question seems to take her by surprise. Her dark brows raise, and her eyes widen. A moment passes, and she laughs. "I was always destined to become this."

But she wasn't. Kingsley can still remember passing time with her, hidden away in empty classrooms. He remembers the way she would laugh and smile, and it just hurts so much to know that those days are gone. That girl is gone.

He had wanted to give her such a beautiful future. They could have been amazing together, and just looking at her like this now makes his heart hurt.

"My turn," she says. "Why are you here? A rookie Auror must have had to pull some strings to get alone with me. Why?" She tips her head to the side, eyes narrowing as she studies him.

"I love you," he answers before he can stop himself. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. "I try not to, but I can't."

"Love brought you here?" She shakes her head, cackling. "Merlin, you're as dumb as you are brave. Were you planning to put a ring on my finger, Kingsley? Darling, were you going to steal me away from this cell and start a new, beautiful life with me?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he climbs to his feet, pushing the chair back in. With a polite bow of his head, he turns and starts for the door.

"Find someone who can make you better," she says, her voice softer now, closer to the gentle voice of the girl he had fallen in love with. "I cannot do that for you."

As he walks away, his heart flutters and aches all at once. Maybe there had been hope for them once, but that is gone now, and he knows there is no getting it back.


	62. Cake On the Couch (PetuniaHestia)

_Word Count: 438_

* * *

Petunia feels a rush of emotions flow through her when she enters her home. On one hand, there are numerous takeaway containers on her living room table, and Hestia is on her couch, happily eating coconut shrimp curry. On the other hand, her lover looks so pleased with herself that Petunia can't be mad at her. She swallows down her irritation and clears her throat. "It looks like you've been busy."

Hestia looks up, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She grins. "Muggles have the most extraordinary system. You just ring the food places, and they will deliver!"

Their time in hiding together two years earlier had been strange. Hestia had looked at the things Petunia found to be perfectly normal, and she had called those things amazing. She had looked at the smallest things with absolute wonder and awe in her eyes.

And she never lost that fascination.

"Takeaway, yes," Petunia confirms.

Vernon would never allow her to order takeaway. He had always demanded that she provide him the sort of life his mother provided his father. Petunia would spend her days cooking and cleaning, playing the part of a Stepford wife. She had smiled through it and pretended to be satisfied. If Hestia hadn't come into her life, maybe things would still be that way; maybe she would still be miserable.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this," she says, moving behind the couch and pecking Hesita's cheek, "but we do have a dining table, which is where meals should be eaten."

"How dreadfully boring, darling," Hestia says with a dramatic groan. She gestures toward a red box with her fork. "The little Italian place delivers. I had them bring that cake you like so much."

Petunia smiles to herself. It really is the little things in life, and there are so many little things that bring her joy. "You bought me cake?"

Hestia grins. "Yes. But it can _only _be eaten in the living room."

"Whatever makes you happy."

She takes a seat beside Hestia, grabbing a container of curry because dinner _always _comes before dessert, even though she is breaking other rules tonight.

As she eats, her mind wanders. Leaving Vernon hadn't been easy. There had been so many doubts and uncertainties. Part of her had been afraid that it would be a mistake.

Yet here she is, happier than she's ever been, so full of love and joy, and she can hardly remember her life before Hestia at all.

In the end, despite her fear, her risk has paid off, and Petunia is glad she took the chance.


	63. Soup and Song (AlbusScorpius)

_For Amanda_

_Word Count: 721_

* * *

"I'm dying!" Albus groans, squeezing his eyes closed for several seconds. It feels like every muscle in his body has been ripped out, beaten with a hammer, and returned to ache and throb. "I'm actually dying."

"That was dramatic," Scorpius says with a snort, rolling his eyes. "It's the flu, Albus. You'll live."

Albus weakly pokes his tongue out at his boyfriend. As if suffering isn't bad enough, Scorpius won't even show him any sympathy. He wonders what he's done to deserve such an unjust fate.

Merlin, maybe Scorpius is right. Maybe he _is _dramatic.

"Maybe if _someone _would have listened to me and taken some Pepperup Potion when I suggested it, we wouldn't be here now," Scorpius adds, though his tone is soft, compassion clear in his voice.

"Is the lecture really necessary, Scor?" Albus weakly sits up, groaning at the effort it takes to prop himself against the headboard. "I'm miserable enough without you being a smug git."

Scorpius chuckles and carefully positions the tray over Albus' lap. Once it's steady, he sets a bowl of soap on top. Albus sniffs, breathing in the warm, rich scent of the golden broth.

"Your grandma sent it," Scorpius tells him. "She also sent me a cake. Reward for tending to you, I suppose."

Albus pouts. On top of everything else, Scorpius gets _cake_. His stomach is upset, and the thought of eating anything sweet makes him feel queasy, but it still isn't fair.

"Stop pouting," Scorpius chuckles. "You look like a kicked puppy."

Albus rolls his eyes, but he can't resist the smile that plays at his lips. "I'm cuter than a puppy."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Albus dips the spoon into the soup before lifting it to his lips. The warmth spreads through his body, working its own magic. Really, he doesn't think there's a potion out there that can rival his grandma's chicken soup. One sip of it, and everything feels a little better.

"Your skin is flushed," Scorpius frets, making his way to the potion cabinet and rummaging through the vials. "Your fever must be back."

Albus wouldn't be surprised. He's run a fever off and on for the past two days, always shifting between burning up and shivering violently when the chills hit.

Scorpius returns with a fever remedy. He sets it on the tray. "Take it as soon as you're finished eating."

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Albus asks. "Have they not noticed you haven't been in lately?"

Scorpius shrugs. "You're more important, so I'm on holiday."

Albus groans. He hates that Scorpius has wasted his saved days off like this. He deserves something amazing, some nice getaway by the beach. Instead, he's been stuck in the house, tending to his sick, miserable, whiny boyfriend.

"I'm done," Albus tells him once he's drained half the bowl.

"Potion," Scorpius reminds him, taking the bowl and tray and sliding the vial into Albus' hand.

Albus takes the top off and down the potion. He feels the effect almost immediately. The heat in his face fades, and he almost feels normal again.

"You're an angel," Albus murmurs, sinking back into the pile of pillows and letting out a content sigh. "An absolute angel."

"I know. Now, you need to rest."

Albus is tired of resting. He's been in bed for what feels like an eternity, and it's getting old fast. Still, he knows it's best for the healing process. Soon enough, he will be able to on his feet and harassing Scorpius again.

"Will you sing to me?" he asks.

Scorpius laughs. "Why would you want that? Your eardrums will burst."

Albus snorts. Scorpius really doesn't have the best singing voice, but he still loves it. There's something adorable about Scorpius happily screeching away, oblivious to the fact that Albus is listening. "Please?"

With a sigh, Scorpius sets the tray aside and sits beside Albus. "Hush little Albus, go to sleep," he sings, his voice out of key, but still beautiful to Albus' ears. "I'll sing you a promise that I'm going to keep. Sleep, my love, you'll be alright. I promise to hold you through the night."

Albus closes his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He is sick and miserable, but Scorpius is with him. Everything is going to be okay.


	64. By the Book (PercyPenelope)

_Word Count: 407_

* * *

"Was… Was my tie crooked the entire time?" Percy asks, frantically adjusting the knot.

It isn't a big deal. He tells himself that over and over. These things happen, and he shouldn't stress over it. The Minister probably didn't even notice…

He can't help it. The thought of it makes his heart race uncomfortably. He's supposed to be better than this, but he can't even dress himself properly.

"You should have said something," he groans, smoothing his fingers over the striped silk. "I must have looked like an idiot."

Penelope sighs and shakes her head, a hint of an amused smile on her lips. She reaches out, affectionately caressing Percy's cheek. "What's done is done. Besides, I didn't even notice it, dear," she says with a shrug.

Of course she didn't. Percy supposes that most people wouldn't. Not everyone is as meticulous as he is. Not everyone craves logic and order the way he does; such things, to him, are almost like air and water, things that he needs to survive.

"You think this is funny," he says, noticing the say she still grins.

"Moderately." She takes his hand and steps closer to him, their shoulders touching. Percy glances behind them, so worried that someone might see, that they might be breaking some code of conduct. "Perce, I love you. Please just… relax."

It's easier said than done. _Relax. _His family has told him the same thing as long as he can remember. Truthfully, he doesn't know how.

Percy exhales heavily, dropping her hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes I wonder what you could possibly see in me. I'm a mess."

"You're literally the opposite of _mess_."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know." She nudges him gently. "Love doesn't have to make sense, Perce. I love you, and that's the only thing I know without a shadow of a doubt. I love you, flaws and quirks, perfections… Everything."

He's glad she does. Sometimes he thinks he must be impossible to love. After all, hasn't he always been a little bit difficult? Too this, not enough that?

But Penelope has never seemed to mind. She has always greeted him with a bright smile and warm words, like his quirks don't matter.

"I love you too."

And when he kisses her on the cheek, right there in the hallways of the Ministry, he doesn't check to see if anyone is looking.


	65. Dance With Me (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 506_

* * *

"You look like you're about to fall asleep."

Daphne shakes her head, the voice drawing her out of her daze and back to the present moment. She blinks rapidly, trying to focus. "Can you blame me?" she asks, adjusting the gold necklace that rests against her collarbone. A hint of a smile plays at her lips. "My family's little parties are so boring."

She remembers being younger and longing to join her parents in the ballroom. Unfortunately, since her thirteenth birthday, she has had to endure far too many of these parties, and she realizes now how incredibly dull they are. They aren't spectacular things of luxury and leisure. They are adults talking about things she doesn't care about, while teens attempt to sneak alcohol into the garden.

Blaise chuckles softly, nodding. "It is pretty bad," he agrees. "Not as bad as when Vince's dad hosts them, though."

Daphne groans. Vincent Crabbe is a nice enough bloke, but his parents have the personality of dust. "Don't remind me," she says. "Mother is supposed to have tea with Mrs. Crabbe next week, which means Astoria and I will be forced to tag along."

She knows why her parents do it. They want to get in with the elite, to try and sway them away from these ridiculous prejudices.

"I bet I can distract you," Blaise tells her. "I'll make you forget all about this party, the Crabbes, everything."

"Tempting." She raises her brows curiously. "What do you have in mind?"

Blaise holds out his hand. "Will you dance with me?"

Daphne feels heat flood her cheeks. Although her parents provided her with dance lessons from the finest tutors, she has never actually shown off her skills in a public setting. At least, that's the excuse she gives herself. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that she's been halfway in love with Blaise for the past two years.

"Come on," he says. "You know you want to."

Merlin, she does. So much.

"Why do you want to dance with _me_?"

Everyone knows that Blaise is picky. No girl has ever been good enough for him.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you, Daph?" he laughs, amusement clear in his dark eyes. He takes her hand. "I've been flirting with you for like three years now. Have you not noticed?"

Maybe she did notice, but she would never actually believe he meant it. Why would Blaise Zabini, the boy who is so coveted by Slytherin girls, choose her?

"Maybe I just want to hear you say it," she says, struggling to maintain her composure.

"I fancy you." Without waiting for an answer, he leads her onto the dancefloor. "Now, dance with me."

So she does. Butterflies tickle her insides, and she smiles with each graceful step they take together.

The feeling is mutual; he wants her too. And as they share a dance with one another, laughing and grinning as they go, she can't help but think how beautiful the world is.


	66. For Her (GinnyDemelza)

_Word Count: 483_

* * *

It isn't the first time Demelza has found her girlfriend slumped against the wall in the corridor, roughed up and completely pitiful. The Carrows made their hatred for Ginny well known, and Ginny was too fiery to back down. These punishments seem to be getting more and more frequent.

"Easy does it," Demelza murmurs, carefully helping Ginny to her feet.

"I'm fine," Ginny says. "You don't have to help me."

Demelza snorts. "Try and stop me."

Ginny doesn't. She never does. Maybe she grudgingly acknowledges, in her own way, that she isn't invincible, that she does need someone. Demelza hates that Ginny causes so much trouble, but she will always stand at her girlfriend's side. Her wand is in her hand as she helps Ginny up the stairs. Zhe doesn't like the idea of attacking a professor, but she won't hesitate if the opportunity arises. Ginny means more to her than anything else in this world, and she will gladly fight for her.

"Bastard," Ginny growls. "One of these days… You'll see, Mel. One of these days, Amycus Carrow is gonna get what's coming to him. I hope I'm the one to give it to him."

"Can I be honest? You sound like a raving lunatic," Demelza says, pausing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait and giving the password. The entrance is revealed, and she helps Ginny into the common room.

It's mostly empty. Parvati and Lavender sit by the fireplace, holding hands and watching the flames. Neither acknowledge Ginny and Demelza as they take a seat on the other side of the common room.

"I'm afraid," Demelza admits, studying the cuts and bruises that mark Ginny's freckled skin.

"Don't be." Ginny waves a dismissive hand, a pained grin on her lips. "You have me."

Demelza sighs and shakes her head. Sometimes she thinks Ginny really doesn't get it. She means well, but she seems to miss the point. "I'm afraid because you keep getting hurt." She takes Ginny's hand, softly ghosting her thumb over her knuckles. "One day they might go too far, and…"

She closes her eyes. It isn't something she liked to think about. Demelza doesn't know what she would do if anything happened to Ginny.

"Hey," Ginny says softly, drawing Demelza back to the here and now. "I'm always going to fight. I'm not safe, and I won't apologize for that. It isn't just about honor. It's about stopping them and making Hogwarts safe again."

Demelza nods. She knows why Ginny does it. It's the same reason any of them do. Still, Ginny is her girlfriend, and Demelza can't help but worry about her.

"When this is all over," Ginny whispers, "things will be normal again. Until then, we have to do whatever we can to make things better."

"I know."

Demelza doesn't want to fight. She never asked for this war. Still, for Ginny, she will fight.


	67. No Mistakes (NevilleDaphne)

_Word Count: 330_

* * *

_"What rules? I follow my heart."_

_-Alison Malee_

* * *

The day has come. Daphne adjusts her white gown before moving her fingers to the pearl necklace her sister gave her.

Her side of the venue is empty, but she isn't surprised. Whenever they found out who she was in love with, so many people sneered and hissed their little insults. They tried to tell her it isn't proper, that she's breaking some great rule the universe has set out for her to follow.

Why should she care about any rules when she knows what her heart wants? Freckles, kind eyes, the sweetest smile she's ever seen. How could anyone ever spend time with Neville Longbottom and not fall head over heels in love with him?

Some believe that she's throwing her life away, but she doesn't care. Her heart wants what it wants.

The piano plays, and she steps forward. His eyes find hers, and they widen as though she is the most wonderful thing he has ever seen.

No one else has ever looked at her like that. Sure, she has always been told that she is beautiful, but Neville is the only one who makes her feel like it's true without having to say a word. When she looks in his eyes, there is no doubt in her mind that she is loved.

She comes to a stop beside him, her heart racing. It's the best sort of nervous, the sort that mingles so perfectly with joy. This is it; it's finally happening, and they are getting married.

He takes her by the hand, his smile so warm that she thinks she might melt into a puddle before she can say her vows.

Some say she's making a mistake. She doesn't believe that. Neville makes her feel like the happiest, most loved person in the world.

And, as the ring goes on her finger, she knows that this is her forever love, and no one can tell her otherwise.


	68. Always Yours (AbraxasDruella)

_Culinary Arts, task 11. Write about someone weak or frail _

_Word Count: 747_

* * *

This is not the young man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. Druella feels her heart breaking as she stands in the doorway, words sticking in her throat.

He is still Abraxas, but he is not _her _Abraxas. The strong limbs of his youth have been replaced with thin, weak arms and legs that look like they might shatter at even the smallest touch. His skin, which was smooth as silk and so warm to the touch that they felt like home, is looser now, and it's so paper-thin that Druella is afraid it might rip if she gets so close.

She's tempted to back away, to pretend she never came at all, but Abraxas looks up. The movement is strenuous, as evidenced by the way he sucks in gasping, shaking breaths. Still, his thin, chapped lips twitch into the faintest of smiles.

"Druella, my love," he says. "I was afraid you had forgotten about me."

His words are like daggers in her heart. How could she ever forget the first person to teach her what love is? Once, he had been so faithful and adoring. His whispered promises had consumed her thoughts, and she had lived for his touch.

"Forget you?" she whispers, removing her emerald cloak and draping it neatly over her slender arm. "My darling Abraxas, I could never forget you."

Would this be easier if she could forget him? Seeing him like this, knowing he has grown old without her, hurts too much.

It should have been them. If only he had gone to her father before Cygnus had.

Now, the man she had loved is gone. This frail, fragile man who wears a lover's skin has taken his place…

And yet, somehow, she finds herself melting regardless. The years have aged them both. Druella is not the foolish girl, so quickly to believe in her silly dreams, anymore, but being here makes her soften.

She moves closer, reaching out but hesitating, her chest aching. With a smile, he reaches out as well, taking her hand in his. Once, this would not have been possible. The dragon pox that has taken hold of his body would have been too great a risk, but she doesn't have to worry about that. Abraxas is most unfortunate that his condition was too advanced for treatment by the time it was discovered.

"They say I don't have long left," he tells her, weakly lifting his free hand and gesturing around the room. "We had dreams once, remember? You and I were going to retire in a pretty little cottage by the sea."

She remembers it with such clarity that it hurts. A tear clings to her lashes before rolling down her lined face. "Abraxas…"

"Dying in this miserable room is the worst part. I can stand the pain. But it's so bloody boring, Dru."

This isn't the way he would want to go. Abraxas has always been so bold and full of life. He deserves so much better than this, but there is nothing she can do to fix it.

"At least I was able to see you again," he says with a shaky sigh, his fingers weakly brushing over her hand. "It won't be long now. I can feel it in my bones."

"Hush. You aren't dying."

He laughs, the sound dry and strained. He winces. "Then why have you come to visit me after all this time?"

She opens her mouth, but there are no words for this. They both know exactly why she is here. She's put off coming, even after Acanthia's bitter letters, accusingly telling her that Abraxas has been calling her name in his sleep. Perhaps that is why she's moved him to the hospital and out of Malfoy Manor.

After weeks of worrying, she could not stay away much longer. There is some piece of her that has brought her here, a piece that has never stopped longing for Abraxas.

"I shall never stop loving you, Druella," he says, releasing her hand at last before falling back, sinking into the elevated mattress. "Until my final breath, it will always be you."

She wants to grab his hand again and promise him that everything will be okay, but she cannot lie to him. Instead, she just stands there, watching has his eyes close and his breathing slows. Eventually, his snores fill the room, but she doesn't leave.

Maybe it is _her _Abraxas in that bed after all.


	69. Surrender (RegPeter)

_"And most of all, I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my life the way I feel when I'm with you."_

_-Baby, Dirty Dancing_

* * *

There's a tension in the air that is so heavy that Peter can almost taste it on

his tongue. He wonders if Regulus can too, if it isn't all in his head.

"What am I doing?" Peter asks, his voice frantic as he begins to pace.

If he keeps moving, maybe he can escape the feelings that won't leave him alone. Maybe his skin will fit properly on his bones, and he won't feel so anxiously, like his flesh might burst.

It doesn't help. Try as he might, he still feels so miserable. There is some nameless thing that he doesn't dare to voice, hidden deep within him, lying in wait and ready to consume him. He resists, but it's only a matter of time.

"No one asked you to stay," Regulus says dryly, lighting a cigarette. Smoke drifts from his lips as he studies Peter. "You can leave."

Peter almost laughs. _Leave. _As if it's that simple. Maybe, under different circumstances, it could be. Maybe he could just walk away and never look back. He's in too deep to resume the life he once lived, but maybe he could start over somewhere else with a new name and a fake story.

But he won't. He knows he won't.

Peter is scared to death. He never wanted to be part of this war. He never wanted to be a traitor, to lie to his friends. Knowing he could be found is terrifying.

And yet, something else keeps him here.

Regulus takes a drag on the cigarette, exhaling a puff of white-grey. Why does he have to look so beautiful? Why does he make it so hard for Peter to even think clearly?

If he walks away, he loses Regulus, and he can't live with that. Regulus is the only one who has ever truly seen Peter, who has ever made him feel like maybe he is more than just a burden.

Walking away will mean giving that up.

"Well?" Regulus lifts a brow, a smirk on his lips as though he can read Peter's mind.

"I think I'll stay."

And so he stops fighting the war inside his head, and he surrenders.


	70. Not So Picky (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 316_

* * *

Daphne blinks rapidly, mouth opening slightly as she tries to make sense of what Blaise has just said. It doesn't make sense. Everyone who knows Blaise knows that he has a reputation for being picky. During their time at Hogwarts, she can't recall ever seeing him look at anyone. Pansy had always enjoyed teasing Blaise about it, warning him that the Zabini line would end with him.

And now he says he loves her, and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Daph?" His voice quivers on the syllable, his confidence seemingly stripped away. "If you could say something, that would be great."

She finds herself smiling. How many times had she stolen glances at him, cursing him for being so picky, for never seeming to see that she wanted him. Had he noticed? Had he shown it in his own way? She tries to recall a moment when he seemed even remotely interested, but she can't grasp anything solid.

She adjusts the strap of her sapphire gown, swallowing nervously. There's the faintest bit of guilt that stabs at her insides. They're here to celebrate Astoria's engagement. To feel this sort of happiness for herself seems selfish.

"Are you sure?"

He snorts, dark eyes rolling. "When we were twelve, I watched you slap Marcus for harassing Gemma," he tells her. "And in that moment…" He shakes his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his lips. "I just knew."

"I always thought you were picky," she says.

"I was. I only wanted you." He shrugs. "Unfortunately, I also found you incredibly intimidating, so I could never tell you that."

"What changed?" she wonders.

"I did."

He takes her hand, guiding her through the crowd and onto the dance floor, leading her in a graceful waltz. It's everything she's ever dreamed it would be. Blaise Zabini loves her, and she could never be happier.


	71. In Bed (NarcissaPansy)

_Word Count: 494_

* * *

Sunlight filters in through the window, the sudden warm glow waking Narcissa from her sleep. A tired smile tugs at her lips as she rolls onto her side, but the sleep-heavy joy does not last long. This is not her bed. The mint-green satin blankets and pillowcases are familiar, but this is not the bedroom decor that Lucius picked out.

The smell of coffee fills the air as the door opens. Pansy walks in, burdened by a silver tray like a house-elf. If she minds acting like a servant in her own home, she doesn't show it. She is all smiles as she sets the tray on the bed.

"Good morning." Pansy frowns, setting the coffee mug on the bedside table. "No need to look so crestfallen."

"I stayed the night," Narcissa says, and she's amazed that her voice doesn't betray her panic. "I'm not supposed to do that."

Lucius knows that she disappears some nights. He never really questions, probably because she always returns to his side before the sun rises. Maybe there isn't much honor left to the Malfoy name in the decade that has passed since the war, but that is supposed to be one thing that is tried and true. Naricssa is supposed to be a good wife, always dutifully by Lucius' side. She mustn't give anyone reasons to whisper.

"Maybe you should," Pansy says, gesturing to the plate that rests on the tray. "Who else is going to spoil you like this?"

"I eat at home."

"Meals that you choose," her lover points out. "Because you're a woman, and you aren't supposed to think of anything more challenging than the type of sandwiches to have for tea."

Narcissa opens her mouth to scold her, to remind her that there is an order to things. Still, Pansy's words hit her in a way that makes her squirm uncomfortably. Narcissa reaches for the coffee, breathing in the rich aroma. She takes a sip.

Cinnamon, milk, and just a hint of sugar. Exactly how Narcissa has always enjoyed her coffee. She never realized that Pansy paid attention to her preferences; Lucius certainly hasn't.

"I want you," Pansy says, sitting next to her in bed and grabbing her plate. "I want this."

When she was younger, Narcissa would have killed for this. Had she hoped for a love like this from Lucius? She can't remember ever thinking he could be capable of anything so gentle.

It is all so tempting, and she feels butterflies erupt within her stomach. She is suddenly a giddy schoolgirl, so in love, so sure that maybe this could be real, that this could be the forever love she has always yearned for.

"Baby steps," Narcissa says.

Pansy lifts her own cup of coffee, grinning. "Baby steps," she echoes.

It all still feels so wrong, but Narcissa doesn't care. She has spent years being the faithful wife, always putting Lucius first. Why shouldn't she find her own happiness now?


	72. Alone Together (NevilleHannah)

_Word Count: 310_

* * *

Neville enters the bedroom he and Hannah share above the Leaky Cauldron, brows raising in amusement. "Is that my jumper?"

He knows it is. There's no mistaking the oversized, lopsided blue and tan striped attempt at knitting, a birthday gift from Hermione.

Hannah looks up from her cup of tea and shrugs. "I think I might run away and become a recluse," she tells him, slumping forward. "I'm just so exhausted."

She doesn't have to tell him. He has seen the care she takes in running the pub below. Sometimes he wonders how she manages it because she does it so well.

"A man told me it was bad karma to serve him an even number of chips," she says dryly. "Karma! Over the number of chips. So, I offered to give him an extra one, but no! I need to make the whole bloody thing over again."

Neville crosses the room, kissing her gently on the cheek before sitting beside her. "Are you hungry?" he asks. He suspects she hasn't eaten all day. Ever the Hufflepuff, she has undoubtedly spent the day focusing on everyone but herself. "I can fix you a quick snack before getting dinner started."

"You don't have to do that."

He shrugs. "No. But I want to."

He can't imagine a marriage without equality, where one is stuck with all the domestic work. It has never been like that between them. That's the way it should be. Just caring for one another and building together.

"Maybe not a recluse," Hannah muses. "Can't make it without my adoring husband."

"We could be recluses together," he suggests, fetching the bread from the pantry and looking over at her.

Hannah beams, nodding her approval. "Together sounds good," she says with a soft giggle. "Blanket fort instead of a cave. Fish and chips instead of twigs and berries?"

"Perfect."


	73. Just This Once (KingsleyPercy)

_Word Count: 347_

* * *

"Good morning!" Kingsley calls brightly.

Percy groans and adjusts his glasses. "It's too early for this," he murmurs, yawning.

"For what?" his boyfriend asks, snorting in amusement.

"All this cheer." Percy slips his shirt on, buttoning it slowly. His mind is still blurred from sleep, and he has to be careful not to slide a button into the wrong slot. "It's a Monday, which is hardly worth being all bright and happy."

"But it's your birthday," Kingsley says. "If that isn't worth a little cheer, I don't know what is."

Percy groans. His birthday. He's been so busy with everything else that he hadn't even noticed the date. "Does it _have _to be my birthday?"

It isn't that he dislikes birthdays, but they can be annoying. People hear that it's your birthday, and they try to throw some stupid party, and you have to deal with people all day.

"That's the funny thing about birthdays," Kingsley says, wrapping an arm around Percy. "They're kind of an annual thing."

"Smartass."

Kingsley winks and presses a gentle kiss to Percy's forehead before stepping away. "Don't bother getting dressed. Your boss said you can have the day off." He grins, so proud of himself like he's so clever.

"How generous," Percy says, eyes rolling.

Kingsley laughs and gestures for Percy to follow him; Percy does. In the kitchen, there is a cake with blue icing and a neatly written birthday message.

"Cake for breakfast?" Percy asks, shaking his head. "It is hardly a healthy option, Kingsley. Furthermore-"

Kingsley silences him with a kiss, laughing softly with his lips pressed to Percy's. "I know you're incapable of going a day without following the rules, but come on. It's you and me," he says. "I'll never tell a soul."

Percy sighs. It's just one reason he loves Kingsley. Kingsley sees all of his flaws and quirks, and he loves Percy anyway. It's heartwarming, and Percy can't remember what his life was ever like without Kingsley.

He slides his hand into Kingsley's, smiling. "We can break the rules," he decides. "Just this once."


	74. Coffee and Confetti (Jily)

_Word Count: 487_

* * *

"This is nice, isn't it?" James ask, smiling as the waitress leaves with their order.

Lily looks around Madam Puddifoot's. _Nice _isn't the word she would use. It's warm and cozy, and the smell of coffee and baked goods is enough to make her stomach growl, but she isn't a fan. Maybe it's the fact that they've decorated the place with horrible pink lace and obnoxious heart confetti. Still, James seems pleased with himself for bringing her here for Valentine's Day, and she doesn't have the heart to disappoint him.

"You know, Evans, I spent so much time just sort of… repelling you," he says, picking up a piece of confetti and thumbing it; it lands in someone's abandoned cup at the next table over, "that I almost gave up hope."

She shrugs. Maybe she should feel guilty, but she doesn't. James had spent most the time she's known him being an insufferable prat. If he had wanted to date her, he should have been nicer. "What made you keep trying?" she asks, genuinely curious.

James grins at her and leans in, taking her hand in his. "Because I knew we were destined to be together," he says. "Things just had to fall into place."

It's still strange that she's here at all. She doesn't know exactly how it happened, only that James changed for the better, and she began to notice him. _Really _notice him.

The waitress brings their order: a caramel latte and chocolate croissant for James, and a peppermint mocha latte and blueberry muffin for Lily. James thanks her and pays, seemingly oblivious to the way the waitress smiles a little too brightly at him.

Once the waitress is gone, Lily plucks a blueberry from the muffin and bites into it. The warm juice rolls down her tongue, and she smiles. "I'm surprised you picked this place," she admits. "You don't strike me as the romantic type."

"I'll have you know that I am a hopeless romantic," James insists. "I am the most romantic bloke you'll ever meet, Evans!"

She snorts, brows raising as she studies him skeptically. "Uh-huh," she says before taking a sip of her drink. "Let me guess: Remus planned this for you."

"Are you implying that I can't plan a romantic date?" James asks, resting his hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"Actually, no. I'm betting Sirius. Remus would have suggested you figure out what I like, but Sirius would have gone the dramatic route. Am I right?"

James stares at her. His lips quirk, and he shakes his head, laughing. "Peter, actually. Peter said you liked coffee, and hey! This place has coffee."

"Indeed, it does." Lily covers her cup as a fresh burst of confetti rains down from above. "This place is also a health and safety nightmare."

"Take it to go?" James suggests.

Lily grins, on her feet in an instant. "I thought you'd never ask."


	75. Beautiful Mundane (BillFleur)

_Word Count: 530_

* * *

Fleur steps outside, a laundry basket resting against her hip. She breathes in the salty sea air, and she smiles.

It is such a beautiful day. It isn't beautiful in the way her home in France was. There are no tall, elegant buildings or tiny, adorable pastry shops on the corner. No, this is a different kind of beautiful, a beautiful she would have never thought she would enjoy.

Her bare feet dig into the warm, white sand. In the distance, below the cliffs, she can hear the roar of the sea as the waves crash against the shore. How many times have she and Bill walked along that shore? Even as the world fell apart around them, they would walk along, letting the water lap at their feet and ankles as they collected shells.

And it is truly beautiful. Beautiful in a way she has never known.

There is a simplicity to it. Fleur has always found comfort in the complex and in the intricate. Isn't that what life is all about? Isn't life supposed to be full of twists and turns and all the little details?

But Bill has shown her something different. He had been the only one to ever look at her and see a different kind of beautiful, a beautiful that had nothing to do with her Veela heritage.

Smiling to herself, she sets the basket down near the clothesline. She should hate this, really. Domestic life has never been all that appealing to her. It isn't as though anything has really changed. She still has her job, and she plans to work even when they have children.

And yet domesticity comes so naturally now. It feels like this is the balance she has needed. There is no more stress and worry. She comes home, and she can breathe and feel like maybe everything is okay.

It is tranquil here. This is her life, and she knows it could have been anything she wanted. But this is what she chose, and she will keep choosing it again and again.

"You look like you're in a good mood," Bill says, carrying an armful of grocery bags. "I just know doing laundry has _never _made me smile like that."

Fleur looks up as she pulls their bedsheets from the basket. "I have had an epiphany," she says.

Bill raises his brows curiously, a grin playing at his lips. "Oh? Do tell," he urges.

"I love my life." She throws the sheet over the line, carefully adjusting it so that it doesn't wrinkle, just the way Molly showed her before. "It is different and so unlike anything I have ever known before, and I love it."

Bill's grin broadens. He sets the groceries down on a grassy patch and closes the distance between them, wrapping her in a warm hug. She rests her head on his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of sweat and sea salt and cinnamon.

It is a beautiful day. Not the beautiful day that Paris holds. Not the beautiful day that any other big city offers. It is their own type of beautiful, and Fleur can't imagine any other life but this one.


	76. Work to Do (PoppyPomona)

_Word Count: 565_

* * *

Poppy has been in pain since before the wounded began flooding into the hospital wing. It isn't her pain; though there's a sharp ache in her left leg, she has done nothing to injure herself. She knows that somewhere among the chaos of the battle, her soulmate is injured. It kills her that she cannot rush to Pomona and treat her, but she knows Pomona would not be happy if she did. There are far too many people in the hospital wing now, and even with the volunteers who are helping Poppy, it feels like she will never treat them all in time.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Daphne asks, frowning. "Have you hurt yourself? You're limping."

Poppy offers her a tired smile and shakes her head. "It isn't my wound," she says, and Daphne must hear the meaning behind the crack in her voice because she blushes and goes about her business without another word.

Poppy has no other choice. All she can do is smile through it and grit her teeth. Pain is okay. Pain means that Pomona is still feeling, is still alive. Poppy only needs to worry if the pain stops because…

She shakes her head. That is _not _a possibility. Pomona will be fine; everything will be fine. They will both make it out of this alive, and nothing else will matter.

_Everything is okay, _she tells herself, and she repeats it in her head like a mantra can make it so.

"Let's have a look at your head, dear," she says to the dazed Hufflepuff who sits on the bed and waits.

…

By the time Pomona arrives in the hospital wing, things are slow enough that Poppy can hobble over. Pomona offers her an apologetic smile. "I won't say I'm sorry for fighting," she says. "I'm only sorry you had to feel the pain."

Poppy resists the urge to roll her eyes. That's part of having a soulmate. Your pain is never just your own. "What were you thinking?" Poppy asks. "You're hardly a duelist."

She examines Pomona's leg, frowning at how bad it is. The bone just below the knee is cracked nearly to the point of shattering, and the cartilage in her kneecap has been dislocated.

"To be fair, I planned to stay out of sight and hurl dangerous plants at the enemy," Pomona points out, shrugging. "I was doing good until Antonin brought down the wall beside me."

"You were lucky," Poppy says, giving her a potion for the pain.

Mending bones is an easy enough task, even when they are in this state. Once Pomona downs the potion and Poppy feels her own pain reduced to nothing, Poppy retrieves her wand and presses the tip to her soulmate's leg.

"Much better," Pomona assures her, offering her a soft smile. "Go. Tend to the others now."

Poppy frowns. She's grateful that Pomona is okay, but she doesn't want to leave yet. This war has made her realize exactly how fleeting everything is. She could have lost her soulmate so easily.

"Go," Pomona says again, softer now. "I'll be back."

Poppy leans in, stealing a quick kiss. "You'd better be."

And with that, she moves along. The steady inflow of patients hasn't let up. As much as she would love to sit with Pomona forever, she has work to do. It's what Pomona wants, and Poppy will happily oblige.


	77. Nervous Habits (ChoMarietta)

_Word Count: 403_

* * *

Marietta comes in, brows raising in amusement as she looks around her home. At least, she's reasonably sure it's her home. The walls have been changed to a pastel yellow. Her furniture is now so white that Marietta is terrified of the idea of eating on it and dropping something. There are new paintings and furniture throughout the living room.

When she steps into the kitchen, she sees that Cho has been very busy indeed. The kitchen has a rustic feel to it, and it reminds Marietta of her cousin who lives on a farm in Wales.

"I think it gives the house a cozy atmosphere," Cho says, appearing through the door that leads to the hallway.

"Uh-huh…" Marietta raises her brows, studying her wife in silence. "Darling, there's nothing to be nervous about."

Cho laughs, but it isn't a light and soft sound. It is the trembling laugh of someone who is close to a breakdown. "Why do you assume I'm nervous?"

"Do you usually just decorate the house on a normal day?"

Cho slumps slightly, exhaling her frustration. They both know that she only gets like this when something is bothering her. Marietta remembers when Cho had first begun her training as a Cursebreaker. Cho would be up all night before exam results were posted, decorating and redecorating. When Marietta had gotten injured and ended up in St. Mungo's for a week, Cho had channeled her energy into redecorating Anthony and Padma's nursery.

"I applied for a gig in Peru," Cho says.

Marietta grins. She knows that Cho has always enjoyed the traveling aspect of her job. Marietta has too; visiting her wife all across the world but been an adventure. Somehow, they've never made it to South America, and Cho has been dying to go.

"What if I don't get it?" she asks. "Mercer applied for the same spot, and I just _know_ he's going to get it. You know he _just _got back from Bolivia? How is that fair? I just…"

Marietta closes the distance between them and gently cups Cho's face in her hands, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Everything is going to be fine," she says. "If you get passed over… Fuck it. I have some holiday time coming up. You, me, hiking Machu Picchu?"

Cho grins at that, a soft pink flushing her cheeks. "I'd like that," she says with a nod.


	78. Opposites (LorcanLouis)

_Word Count: 453_

* * *

Louis watches in amusement as Lorcan tries and fails to hurl a Quaffle through the hoop. He misses by several feet, and the red ball soars into the stands.

"Well," Louis says, flying over, grinning at his boyfriend, "it's a good thing this isn't an actual match. At least one spectator would have a head injury."

Lorcan narrows his dark eyes, folding his arms over his chest. The movement throws his balance off, and he yelps, quickly grabbing the broomstick again. "If you wanted to practice so bad, maybe you should have asked one of your actual teammates," he suggests.

Louis pretends to consider this. It had crossed his mind that Imogen Wood is possibly the greatest Chaser Hufflepuff has ever had. She would be a challenge and allow Louis to sharpen his Keeper skills.

In the end, he had decided it would be much more entertaining to throw his boyfriend on a broomstick and let Lorcan throw a Quaffle aimlessly.

"Oh, don't act like you aren't enjoying it," Louis says.

He can see the way Lorcan grins with each turn. Maybe he's terrible at Quidditch, but he loves the thrill and the flood of adrenaline as much as Louis does.

"I enjoy being out here with you," Lorcan says, shrugging as he flies toward the stands.

Louis knows he's going for the Quaffle, but he follows, landing just after Lorcan. "Maybe we could do something else," he says.

Lorcan raises his brows. "We are not shagging in the stands," he teases.

Louis' cheeks flush with heated color. He sputters awkwardly, shaking his head. "That is _so _not what I meant!"

"I know." Lorcan reaches out, grazing his fingertips over Louis' cheeks. "It's just fun to make you blush."

Louis rolls his eyes. Lorcan is a special one. His whole family is so gloriously weird, and Lorcan is a bag of surprises. Louis never knows what to expect from him.

"I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk in the forest?" Louis suggests.

Lorcan grins. "You know me too well. Let's put our brooms away then."

This is why they work out so well. They have nothing in common, but that doesn't matter. They always share with the other. For Louis, he would rather have every single tooth pulled the Muggle way than spend more than a few minutes in the Forbidden Forest. But Lorcan loves it; he can spend hours looking for creatures and telling Louis everything he knows about this creature or that.

That's what being a devoted boyfriend is all about. And as he walks with Lorcan, laughing and smiling, and just being so happily in love, he is grateful for the perfection in his life.


	79. Reasons to Fight (MinervaRolanda)

_Word Count: 431_

* * *

Minerva sighs when she notices the time. She would love nothing more than to stay here forever, wrapped in Rolanda's arms. It isn't an option. She has made a commitment to the Order, and she will honor it.

Rolanda must realize what time it is. She groans her displeasure and holds Minerva a little closer. "Must you leave, Minnie?" she asks, fingers brushing over Minerva's arm.

Minerva wishes she could say that she can stay a little longer. Surely someone else can cover her, and Albus will understand.

But she can't. This is her choice, and she will choose it again and again. Her own life and joys don't matter in the grand scheme of things. She has to look at the bigger picture.

"I'm sorry," Minerva whispers, sitting up.

Sometimes she wishes she could remain neutral. Maybe that would make things easier. If she didn't care too much, didn't follow her heart, didn't want so desperately to change the world…

Rolanda laughs softly as she sinks back into the pillows. Her golden eyes move up and down Minerva's body. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you," she says. "You have always been so noble and honorable."

Minerva smiles at that as she stands in front of the mirror. Her fingers work, carefully manipulating her dark hair until it has been twisted into her usual bun which she secures in place.

"You really believe it's happening, don't you?" Rolanda asks. "You-Know-Who… He isn't dead, is he?"

Minerva wishes she could reassure her lover. Cornelius is determined to spin the story and tell the world that Harry is a liar and everything is fine. It would be lovely to live in that fairytale, but living a lie is not the way.

"He is," Minerva says.

"I wish you would stay. You know I hate it when you leave," Rolanda tells her. "I worry so much."

Minerva smiles at that. She worries too, of course. Truth be told, she wouldn't be out there if she _didn't _worry. She worries about herself, about Rolanda, about her friends and family, about her students. Each and every person in her life is just another reason to keep fighting.

Minerva returns to the bed, leaning down and kissing Rolanda gently on the lips. "I'm coming back."

Rolanda almost smiles. The corners of her lips twitch slightly. "You'd better."

This is always the hardest part, but Minerva knows it has to be done. She turns away and walks out the door. It is necessary, she reminds herself. In the end, it will all be worth it.


	80. Broken Together (DracoPercy)

_Word Count: 505_

* * *

Draco stands at the window, his robe hanging off his right shoulder. His skin is milky in the pale moonlight, and Percy can't seem to look away.

"Do you ever feel like we're just killing the loneliness?" Draco asks, pulling a cigarette from his robe pocket and tucking it between his lips.

Percy laughs. "I thought that's exactly what we were doing."

After the war, they had found one another. Both had been broken and desperate and lonely, and it had been so easy to end up like this. Night after night, Draco finds his way into Percy's flat. Sometimes they just drink until the alcohol numbs the pain. Other times, they fall into bed together, and they disappear beneath the sheets in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs.

But it isn't love. Not really. Not for Percy.

They are both hurting, and they don't know how to heal on their own.

Draco laughs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Outside, beyond the glass, lighting flashes, illuminating the sky. "Don't spare my feelings, Weasley," he says, and maybe he means for it to sound teasing, like he's making a joke and everything is normal. Instead, his voice is dry, bitterness lacing each syllable.

"I don't want to fall in love with you," Percy says.

Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes Draco is a warm body, and that is what he needs. Those nights, it's next to impossible not to say those words and make everything fall apart.

"Love isn't just an excuse to get hurt," Draco says quietly. There's another flash of lightning. He turns, and there's something in his expression that makes Percy shiver. "You're clever. Surely you know that."

Percy shakes his head. Cleverness has done nothing for him. It hadn't been enough to save his brother. It hadn't been enough to save himself from the nightmares that followed the war.

"Are you trying to tell me that you love me?" Percy asks, and his words tremble. He wishes he could be stronger.

Draco laughs and puts out the cigarette. When he turns, he smiles, but he still looks so dead inside, so broken. Percy knows that expression all too well; he sees it every time he looks in the mirror. "Hardly," he says. "But maybe I'm not opposed to the possibility of it."

Percy knows he should end this now. Nothing good can come of letting himself get close to Draco. He needs to run, to push the younger man away, but he can't. Deep down, Percy wants to be fixed. He's tired of being so damaged. Loving Draco won't make everything better again, and it won't bring Fred back. Still, these nights with Draco are all he has to look forward to anymore. They are the faintest hint of happiness beneath the pain.

"Come back to bed," Percy tells him. "We can talk about it in the morning."

Draco never stays the night, but Percy has a feeling that tonight will be different. Something is changing, and Percy doesn't think that it's a bad thing.


	81. House of Memories (FrankAliceRemus)

_Word Count: 866_

* * *

Albus is hesitant to let Remus be the one to sweep the house after the Aurors have left. He knows that Remus is too close to this, but he also seems to know that there is no stopping him.

"I need this," Remus says softly, and it's so hard not to cry. "Please…"

In the end, Albus seems to understand. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

And so Remus finds himself alone in the house that is all too familiar to him, the house he should have been at the night that tragedy struck. He stops in the living room, his eyes on a photograph near the fireplace. In it, he stands with Frank and Alice. The three of them laugh and smile, and to the untrained eye, they may look like three good friends.

But they are so much more, and that's why it hurts now.

* * *

_"Oi! Lupin!" Alice Fortescue calls, walking toward him, snow crunching beneath her boots. "I fancy you."_

_Remus sputters, heat flooding his cheeks. His eyes flicker to where Frank Longbottom stands, and he waits for Frank to yell at him for trying to steal Alice away. Instead, Frank just tucks his hands into his pockets and mutters something about being cold._

_"He fancies you too," Alice says, seeming to pick up on Remus' hesitation. She grins, and Remus notices exactly how lovely she is in that moment. "He just isn't as bold. So… Want to date us?"_

_"How…" Remus clears his throat, trying to figure out exactly how to ask. "How does that work?"_

_"No idea," she admits. Her grin broadens. "Let's find out, shall we?"_

_And he doesn't even give it much thought. His consent falls so easily from his lips. Maybe it's unconventional, but he doesn't really mind._

* * *

He takes the photo and tucks it into his bag. Augusta has undoubtedly left it behind because she knows exactly how much the three loved one another. While she had never openly condemned them, Remus always had the feeling that she was judging them.

* * *

_"I just think that if Alice and I get married, Mother will hopefully stop being so… so…"_

_"Controlling?" Alice supplies helpfully, sliding a waffle onto Remus' plate. "No… That isn't the word I'm looking for…"_

_None of them seem to have the right word, but it doesn't matter; they know what Frank means. Augusta means well, but she can be so abrasive sometimes._

_"I think you're right," Remus says. "Do I get to be your best man?"_

_"No," Alice says with a snort. "You're going to be my maid of honor."_

_"Funny," Remus says, and Alice beams._

* * *

He moves through the house, looking for anything the Aurors might have overlooked, anything they might not have noticed at all. There are rumors that the Death Eaters responsible have been caught, that they're on their way to Azkaban now. Maybe it's true, but Remus has never cared much for _maybes_.

He stands in the kitchen. There's a half empty bottle of wine on the counter. It's Remus' favorite, a sweet red with a hint of blackberry. Alice had picked it out just for him after they had learned about James and Lily.

He should have been there. If he hadn't gotten caught up talking to Albus and trying to work out arrangements for his fallen friends, he would have been there. The thought makes him shudder. He could have so easily shared their fate.

Remus slides to the floor, resting against the leg of the chair. Silent tears fall. It's over. Voldemort is gone. Once, they'd made plans for the future and all the wonderful things they would do when the war ended.

* * *

_They watch as the snow falls outside. Alice bounces on the balls of her feet, her barely noticeable baby bump of a stomach knocking softly against Remus' side. "I want to go somewhere that's always snowy," she says, a faint whine in her voice._

_Frank appears behind them, handing Alice a cup of cocoa first, then Remus. He disappears again and returns with his own cup. "You hate the snow," he says, laughing softly._

_"No, I love the snow," Alice corrects. "I hate the cold."_

_Remus shakes his head. "Must be that Alice logic," he teases, earning a chuckle from Frank and a withering glare from Alice. "What? You know snow is cold, right?"_

_She playfully slaps his arm. "Hush, you. When all this is over, I want to go somewhere. Let's see the Aurora Borealis," she says._

_"I've always wanted to hike Machu Picchu," Frank says._

_And it goes on like that. The three of them sip their cocoa as snowflakes dance in the wind outside. By the time it's all said and done, they've planned out a dozen future trips, and Remus is certain they have at least another planned as well. _

_He just grins because he would love to see the world with his partners and their child._

* * *

Now he is alone at the end of the war. James, Lily, and Peter are dead. Sirius has betrayed them. Frank and Alice have been tortured into insanity.

Now, it is just Remus, and he doesn't know what to do.


	82. Snowflakes on Mittens (ParvatiLavender)

_Word Count: 468_

_"I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life." - Rudy Francisco_

* * *

Parvati wishes she could stop feeling nervous. It's so easy to blame the way she shivers on the falling snow, but she knows it's more to that. Her hands shake as she and Lavender walk through the park, taking the winter scenery.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Lavender asks with a dreamy sigh, a smile playing at her lips.

"It is."

But Parvati isn't talking about the park. There are snowflakes caught in Lavender's honey blonde hair, and she smiles so beautifully. Parvati still remembers the first few weeks after the battle. Lavender hadn't smiled much then. Seeing her like this now makes Parvati want to weep with joy.

"We should have stopped by that little cafe by the flat," Lavender says, a hint of a pout twisting her lips. It shouldn't be so cute when she does that, but Parvati feels a warmth flutter through her insides. "They have the best cocoa."

Parvati wants to kick herself. Hot cocoa would have been perfect. How could she have overlooked that one little detail?

She shakes her head. It isn't the end of the world. They can always go out for cocoa later. She'll get Lavender the fancy caramel one she loves so much after this is done.

Assuming there is an after.

No. Parvati can't think like that. If she lets the doubts eat away at her mind, she will lose her nerve.

"Hello? Parvati? Still with me, babe?" Lavender asks, laughing.

Parvati offers her a shaky grin. "Hey, Lav, do you mind taking your mitten off? The left one, I mean."

Lavender lifts her brows, confusion written all over her pretty face. "What a strange request," she notes, but she obliges, pulling away the warm, pink-and-white striped mitten. "If I got frostbite on my fingers, you're sleeping on the couch for a week."

"Consider me warned." Parvati swallows dryly and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out the ring, sliding it onto Lavender's finger. "I'm not sure frostbite would look good with this."

It isn't the line she had wanted to go with. She had planned it all out, but the words seem to fail her now.

_Fuck it_, she thinks.

"Lavender, will you marry me?"

Short and sweet. Parvati thinks that might be best. She would hate to stumble and fumble and struggle to make sense of things.

"Yes," Lavender answers, and she throws her arms around Parvati, pulling her close and kissing her hard.

In that moment, she knows she's made the right choice. Everything is so easy with Lavender. All tension and fear melts away, and Parvati can see a beautiful future with the woman she loves.

"Now," Parvati whispers as they break away, "about that cocoa."


	83. I'd Like That (PercyPenelope)

_Word Count: 363_

* * *

They meet in Flourish and Blotts. It isn't anything planned, but Percy doesn't mind. Not really.

Truth be told, he's missed Penelope more than he could ever say. He wants to tell her as much when he sees her there, holding a book and scanning the shelves for another. The words don't come out.

She must sense him there because she turns. When she realizes who he is, she smiles. "Perce," Penelope says, and he's surprised to hear the affection in her voice. "It's been a while."

Four years. It's been four years. He's thought of her ever since, but he can't admit it. Instead, he just smiles, nodding. Penelope laughs like he's done something funny.

The tension seems to shatter. At least she isn't angry. At least this might go well. He can only hope.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" she asks, gesturing toward the shop window and the scene beyond it. "It's almost like an apocalypse or something."

Percy swallows down the guilt. He knows exactly how bad things are and how dangerous it has been ever since the Ministry changed hands. He wants to pretend it's all okay, but he knows that's a lie.

"Reading anything good?" he asks because it hurts too much to think about the grim world outside.

Penelope's brows raise. She looks like she wants to say something else. Maybe she plans to push him and press for his comments on the way things are being run. Maybe she just wants to check on him because she knows where he works. Instead, she just shrugs. "Just something on domestic magic," she answers, laughing. "Apparently I am terrible at it."

"I could show you," he says. "My mum always…"

He trails off. More guilt.

If Penelope notices the change in his demeanor, she doesn't say anything about it. She just offers him a smile and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to lunch after I buy my book," she says. "I wouldn't mind the company, if you'd like to join me."

"I'd…" Percy nods. "I'd like that."

She smiles and links her arm with his. "And maybe dinner, if you're free?"

"I'd like that too."


	84. In Love (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 987_

* * *

"Blaise!" Daphne's eyes are wide. "Don't you dare!"

But it's too late. Laughing, Blaise slings the snowball at her. It smacks against her shoulder, bursting and leaving clumps of snow clinging to her blonde hair.

Daphne's cheeks flush a deep pink, but Blaise doesn't know if it's from the cold or something else. Blaise thinks it's cute.

She giggles and shakes the snow out of her hair. Blaise doesn't waste any time. He sends another snowball flying at her. This one hits her square in the chest. Daphne squeals and brushes it away, her green eyes narrowing at him.

"You're going to provoke retaliation," she warns, her perfectly glossed lips puckering the way they do whenever her clever mind goes to work.

"Good." He throws another.

Daphne is fast. She dodges, landing on her knees without flinching. A moment later, she sends a snowball his way. Her aim is much better than his, and she manages to nail him in the forehead.

"That's cheating! Out of bounds!" he calls.

But she doesn't seem to care. Really, he doesn't either. It's all for fun. Just a bit of silliness because fifth year has been more stressful than either will ever admit. He loves that he can have these softer, lighter moments with her, that they can let their masks fall and just enjoy the world around them.

It's easy with Daphne. Blaise doesn't have to pretend to be impressed by what someone's father did, or where someone's family went on holiday. It isn't a competition with her. They can just be two people, young and in love, and so happy to be together.

By the time it's over, they're both shivering. His teeth chatters as he adjusts his scarf. Like everything else they're wearing, his scarf is soaked with too-cold water, the melted remnants of countless snowballs.

"Did you know," Daphne says, peeling away her mittens and tucking them into her coat pockets, "you can exchange body heat easily if both parties are naked?"

Blaise snorts, eyes rolling. "If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask," he teases, and he wonders if it's some made up fact, or if she's being serious.

Daphne leans in, and Blaise wraps an arm around her, holding her closer and kissing her forehead.

…

They sit in the common room together, both dry and comfortable now. The fire crackles as it dances in the fireplace. Daphne is curled into his side, snuggling closer.

"I love what we have," she whispers, reaching up and tracing her fingers lightly over his jawline. "It's nice."

_Nice _is an understatement. Blaise would go as far as to call this relationship perfect. No one else really understands him like Daphne. She sees more than just the arrogant boy who is oh so picky, and she knows that his standards are high because he's always wanted more.

And, by some miracle, she gives him exactly that. He can be himself with her. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Slytherin usually comes with a part to play. Daphne seems to have rejected that notion from the jump, and she makes it so easy for Blaise to do the same.

"You're staring," she murmurs.

"Yep," he says, unabashed and unapologetic.

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," he answers, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Because you're perfect."

"I'm hardly perfect."

But she really is, and somehow he is lucky enough to be able to call her his.

"Agree to disagree."

Daphne sits up, and Blaise resists the urge to pout. She looks at him, arms folded over her chest, brows raised. For several moments, she doesn't speak; she just studies him with the same look she gets whenever she's presented with a subject that interests her. Sometimes Blaise wonders how she ended up here and not in Ravenclaw.

"You are head over heels in love with me, aren't you?" she asks, eyes wide with realization. She blushes.

"I thought I already made that clear," he says.

They haven't said _I love you _many times, but they _have _said it. He's meant it every time, and he likes to think that she means it too.

"There's a difference between loving someone and being in love," she tells him.

He shrugs because it doesn't matter. All he knows is that he loves Daphne, and he has since he was thirteen. "I love you, Daph," he says, shaking his head. "I love everything about you. Not just the good. I love you when you're having a bad day, and when your anxiety is overwhelming. I love you no matter what."

He wonders if it's too much, if he has said the wrong thing. What if she turns away? What if this is how it ends?

Except maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe he's just needed to get those words out and give voice to feelings he's held deep in his heart. He hopes for the best but braces himself for the worst.

With a smile, Daphne takes his hand, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "I'm not in love with you, I don't think."

Blaise swallows dryly. It doesn't sound like rejection or a breakup. Still, it makes him nervous.

"But I do love you," she adds, and Blaise wonders if she can see the confusion in his eyes. "I love you so much, and I don't want to ever stop loving you. You're my best friend, and I am so lucky to be able to call you my boyfriend too."

It isn't what he had expected, but it still makes his insides feel warm and fuzzy. This love that they have is perfect. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Maybe she isn't in love with him, but that's okay.

They share a love is theirs, and it is real, and Blaise knows that it can only grow from here.


	85. Round and Round (RemusTonks)

_Word Count: 1028_

* * *

Truth be told, Remus wants nothing more than to rest. It feels like they have been traveling for years, though he knows they've only been out of England for a day or so. By now, he and Tonks have found Dumbledore's allies (the names of whom were left to Alastor, though Alastor isn't here to guide them anymore) in three different countries. Their time on the road has seemed endless, and he is grateful that they end up in a little park in France.

"You know, I've always had this fantasy of climbing the Eiffel Tower and just…" Tonks frowns, shrugging. "Well, honestly I never gave it much thought beyond climbing the bloody thing."

Remus rolls his eyes. "Perhaps climbing isn't the best thing to do while you're…" He clears his throat, blushing. It is still so hard to wrap his mind around the fact that Tonks is pregnant. It scares him more than he'll ever admit.

Sometimes he wonders if he should have stayed gone. Harry had shamed him for leaving Tonks; maybe trying to go with those three had been the wrong idea. Maybe he should have just disappeared, never to be seen again.

He shakes his head. There's no need to let his mind go there. All that matters is that he is still here. His own self-esteem issues mean nothing in the long run. He is here, and he is going to be a father, and he had better get used to the idea because it's happening whether he likes it or not.

Tonks snorts. "How thoughtful," she says, slipping her hand into his. "I promise I won't climb any great monuments until after the baby is born. Scout's honor."

"Were you ever actually a Scout?"

Tonks makes a face and pulls him toward a pond in the middle of the park. Remus watches as the swans swim along, graceful and elegant. He remembers his mum telling him stories about the ugly duckling whenever he would fret over his scars. He wonders if he ever grew into a swan. Merlin knows he only ever sees a monster.

_Stop that, _he tells himself. _Now is not the time._

"Everything is going to be okay," she tells him. "You know that, don't you?"

Does he know that? Surely he must, or he would have gone mad by now. Sometimes he thinks optimism is the only thing that keeps him going. Maybe things aren't great now, but they have to get better. Maybe his head is in a bad place, but he knows it is only temporary and it will pass, and Tonks is by his side to love him through the worst days.

They're about to continue through the park when he feels the temperature drop. Remus shudders. It's a distant feeling, but he can feel the dread creeping up on him.

"Dementors," Tonks whispers, and Remus nods his confirmation.

Before, when things were still normal, a Dementor attack could be written off as a fluke. After Harry's attack two years ago, and the confirmation that the Dark Lord controls the infernal beings, Remus knows it isn't a mere coincidence. Maybe they aren't officially fugitives, and his face has never appeared on a wanted sign, but he knows that there is a target on their backs. It is his understanding that Bellatrix Lestrange in particular wants Tonks dead.

He sees the first Dementor, then another. The Muggles may not see them, but their presence is felt. The few tourists become distressed all of a sudden, panicking as they look around.

Remus steps in front of Tonks. He knows she can take care of herself, but he knows he needs to protect her and their unborn child. What sort of father would he be if he didn't fight for her with everything in him?

Another Dementor appears, then another, and another. It's almost like a swarm. The air grows colder, and Remus feels sick to his stomach.

Why is he here? Hasn't he always been a little bit useless? It should be James or Sirius here. They had always been so much braver than he could ever hope to be.

Remus shakes his head. "No," he whispers. He raises his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

The silver wolf bursts forth from the tip of his wand. Tonks echoes the spell, her own wolf joining his.

"Remus, my love," she whispers, watching as the dark creatures dart backwards, "I do believe now would be an excellent time to leave."

Before he can say anything, he feels a snagging sensation in his navel. With a _pop_, they disappear.

…

They're in another park now. Remus doesn't know which one, only that it's raining. Fat droplets pelt his face, leaving him sputtering.

Tonks is quick, transfiguring a stick on the ground into an umbrella, which she holds over them, grinning. "My hero," she says with a soft laugh.

"I didn't do anything," he argues. "You're the one who got me out of there."

Tonks shrugs, wrapping her free arm around him and guiding him along. "Doesn't matter. Your first instinct was to protect me. To protect _us_," she says, and Remus glances at her belly. Tonks isn't showing yet, but he knows there is life growing in there.

He's spent so much time beating himself up, always thinking he isn't good enough, but he has done something great. Maybe he will always have these doubts inside his mind, but it's okay. Even if he isn't perfect, he is a good husband; it's time that he remembers that.

"So, where are we?" he asks.

The rain is too heavy to tell anything apart or recognize anything.

"A park in Amsterdam," Tonks answers. "Dad's maternal grandmother lived here, and we visited when I was small."

"You don't by any chance have a fantasy about climbing the windmill, do you?" he teases.

"Well, as it happens…"

They walk along, laughing and smiling, and Remus starts to feel better. He makes a promise to himself that when this war is over, he and Tonks will travel again. When they do, they will do so as a family on vacation, and it will be a glorious day.


	86. Promises Kept (ParvatiLavender)

_Word Count: 445_

* * *

"You don't have to stay," Lavender whispers.

What she doesn't say is that she would completely understand if Parvati didn't _want _to stay. Though Lavender is out of St. Mungo's and recovering well, she knows that there will still be bad days. Sometimes her mind refuses to let go of everything that has happened to her. There had been countless nights where she had relived Greyback's attack and woken up screaming; the Healers had sedated her with a potion, but Lavender still remembers the pain and distress and fear all too clearly.

She doesn't want Parvati to have to see her like this. Lavender is recovering, both physically and mentally, but she isn't whole yet. She isn't the smiling girl she had been before that fateful battle. Really, Parvati deserves someone who isn't breaking.

"Uh huh." Parvati folds her arms over her chest, lips pursing. Her dark eyes move over Lavender's body. "If you want to get rid of me, you have to do better than that."

Is Lavender trying to get rid of her? She wants to think not. At least, not because of anything Parvati has done. It's her own mind that tells her that she needs to push people away. In the beginning, she had tried. Parvati had stayed by her side, promising her again and again that she wasn't going anywhere. It's been a month and a half, and Parvati has kept that promise each and every day.

"Your mum said I could use the guest room if things get bad."

_If. _Parvati is kind to not say _when._

"I don't think I'll take her up on that." Parvati sits on the bed with her. She takes Lavender's hand, brushing her thumb over her knuckles. "I'm here. Good, bad, whatever. I promise."

Lavender doesn't know now she got so lucky. By some miracle, she has the most amazing, most considerate girlfriend ever.

"You're staring," Parvati notes.

"That's because I really want to kiss you."

Her girlfriend grins and leans in, gently pressing her lips to Lavender's.

Lavender is still healing. There are days where she feels so incredibly hopeless, days where she wishes she had bled to death on that cold stone floor. And then there are beautiful, tender moments like these, when it is her and Parvati, and she knows that she isn't alone, that there is hope for a beautiful future.

It isn't perfect. She will never be able to go back to those days before. But it's okay. With Parvati by her side, she knows she can carry on, and that there are more good and perfect days to come.

And it's all because of a promise kept.


	87. A Future Before Us (PercyDraco)

_Word Count: 526_

* * *

Draco Malfoy is in his kitchen. It isn't the most unusual sight, as they've been dating for half a year, but Percy can't help but worry. Usually, Draco gives him a heads up before dropping by.

"And what has you in a murderous mood this morning?" Percy asks, yawning and stretching, his back popping softly at the movement.

"I'm not… murderous," Draco says, scowling.

Percy snorts. "The toast says otherwise."

He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone butter a piece of toast so aggressively. Draco swipes the butter knife over the bread a little too roughly before dropping the bread onto the plate and tossing the knife into the sink.

"I told my parents about us."

"Oh," is all Percy can manage.

"Oh," Draco agrees with a roll of his eyes. "Isn't a parent's love supposed to be unconditional?"

Percy inhales sharply. That explains his boyfriend's sour mood. "Sit," he says softly. "I'll take care of breakfast."

Percy isn't the best cook, but he makes a simple fry-up. It isn't as delicious as his mother's cooking, but it smells great and undoubtedly tastes okay. Draco is quiet through it all. When Percy sets his plate and coffee down in front of him, Draco just sighs.

Percy doesn't push him to speak. Draco is horribly stubborn. It's best to just wait.

Percy sips his tea and opens the newspaper, eyes moving over the articles as he enjoys his breakfast.

"Mother wasn't as bad," Draco says. "She cried because she seems to think this means I can't give her any grandchildren."

With a sigh, Percy shakes his head. "I'm not sure why people don't consider adoption a viable option," he murmurs, closing the newspaper and focusing his attention on his boyfriend. "Or why that is so bloody important, for that matter. Your father?"

Draco lets out a bitter laugh. He sips his coffee and sighs heavily. "I'm sure you can imagine."

Really, Percy can. His own family had been fine with his coming out. Admittedly, they had been hesitant when he had introduced Draco as his boyfriend, but they had still been supportive through it all. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, is nothing like his own family. Being a pureblood isn't enough; the only point of a relationship is to reproduce and continue the Malfoy line, in Lucius' opinion. Having a son deviate from that plan must have been his own personal nightmare. Percy tries not to feel too satisfied by that.

"It turns out that I am no longer worthy of the Malfoy name."

Percy reaches across the table, taking Draco by the hand. "My family loves you."

Over time, they had come to see that Draco has grown since the war. Ron still carries a grudge, but he doesn't act on it.

"At least there's that."

Percy grins. "And I love you."

Draco lifts Percy's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Even better."

They had known it wouldn't be easy, but that hadn't stopped them. It isn't going to stop them now either. They have a future together, a life laid out before them, and Percy isn't giving up on that.


	88. Choose Me (LuciusAlice)

_Word Count: 781_

* * *

_These are the moments he lives for. They lay together, sprawled across the bed, and, just for this moment, they can pretend that everything is okay. There isn't a war brewing; they don't have terrible choices to make._

_Alice yawns, eyes opening. She sits up, her short hair a mess. She's always had the most adorable bedhead. Lucius wishes he could wake up to it every morning. "I have to go," she says._

_Of course she does. His parents will send the house-elf in to wake him soon. The last thing they need is for their secret to be discovered._

_"You need a new mattress," she chuckles. "I'm all stiff."_

_Lucius reaches for her. "I can help with that."_

_She grins, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "I'm sure you can."_

…

Lucius wakes, and he immediately wishes he didn't have to get out of bed. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach. Something is wrong.

Beside him, Narcissa sits up, stretching. "Good morning," she says.

He knows it's just a game they play. If they pretend to be the happy couple in their idyllic home with the perfect marriage, maybe it will become a reality. Merlin knows they've been faking it for so long, and Lucius is tired.

Still, Lucius smiles and sits up. "Good morning, Cissa," he greets before getting out of bed.

Bad feeling or not, he has to carry on. Any concerns can wait.

…

_Alice stands in front of his window, watching the rain drops pelt against the glass. Lucius can see her face reflected, the way her bright eyes narrow and her lips twist into a frown. She's beautiful when she loses herself in thought like that._

_"We can't keep going on like this," she tells him, turning to face him. "You know we can't."_

_"Just because Father wants me to marry Narcissa Black, doesn't mean I'm going to," he says._

_"It isn't just about that."_

_He knows. It's something that they return to again and again. The war. The sides. The hopeless impossibility of it all._

_"Alice," he whispers._

_"You can choose me, Lucius." She reaches out and takes his hand, tugging him closer. "You don't have to follow _him_."_

_He wishes it could be that simple. Alice could never understand the pressure, the desperation, the necessity. There isn't much of a choice in it._

_"Alice," he says again, kissing her gently._

_She pulls away, eyes wide as understanding hits. "This is how it has to be, then?" _

_"I'll never be what you want me to be," he says, and it kills him to say it. "You're good. I'm not."_

_He wishes he could be. What he wouldn't give to be someone who deserves her._

_She laughs, the sound dry and bitter. "Good to know."_

…

Dobby fixes them breakfast, but Lucius doesn't have much of an appetite. He reaches for the _Daily Prophet, _and he freezes, a lump in his throat.

Alice is on the front. Hers and Frank's picture isn't as large as the one of Lily and James Potter, but Lucius is immediately drawn in by her kind smile. She isn't dead; that's about where the good news ends.

"Excuse me," Lucius says, jumping to his feet as soon as he's scanned through the article and learned everything he needs to know. "I've just remembered that I have a meeting."

…

_Alice refuses to talk to him. For the most part, she won't even look at him. _

_Once, he had believed that they could have a life together. Maybe they still could, but he sees the way she smiles at Frank Longbotton, and he knows that he has lost._

_He will marry Narcissa Black, and he will always be eaten away by the guilt and the knowledge that he could have had everything he ever desired._

…

Alice is gone. Maybe she's still alive, but it isn't the same. She looks at him, and it's like she's looking right through him, like she doesn't see him. When she smiles, it doesn't make her whole face glow.

She is shell, a ghost, not the woman he loves.

Lucius takes a step closer, and his stomach clenches. He could have prevented this. He _should _have prevented this. If only he had known…

It's his fault. It's all his fault.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He forces a smile, ever the epitome of calm and collected as he faces the Healer. "Gretchen! Lovely to see you. I was in here, hoping to make a donation to this ward."

He couldn't keep herself, but he will not let that happen again. This loss is too great, but Lucius refuses to lose her for good.


	89. It Works (RonPansy)

_Word Count: 607_

* * *

"You look amazing," Ron says.

And she really does. Pansy looks like she was made for this night. Then again, maybe she was. After all, she's the one who grew up attending these pretentious parties. It's natural for her to look so elegant and beautiful in her emerald dress.

Ron, on the other hand, is terrified that he sticks out like a sore thumb. His suit is nice. Pansy had made sure he would look perfect for the party at her father's. Still, even if he looks the part, he feels like an imposter. At the end of the day, he is still a Weasley. After the war, that name came to mean something among most. Some, though, still cling to their pureblood values and call him a traitor.

Pansy pulls out a golden compact mirror, touching up her lipstick. When she snaps it shut and returns it to her purse, she's all smiles. "And you look like you might vomit," she notes.

Ron snorts. Pansy is as blunt as always. It's one of the many reasons he fell in love with her during that strange and wild time after the war. By all accounts, they ought to hate each other, but they don't. Really, he's more grateful than he'll ever admit.

"Your dad hates me," he reminds her.

She shrugs. "And your sister hates me," she says simply. "They will get over it."

She doesn't give him a chance to respond. She links her arm with his and leads him inside.

It's beautiful. After the war, Ron and his friends had been invited to various formal events. None of them compare to the Parkinson estate. It's like someone decided to hold a party in the middle of a museum. A party for only the wealthy and influential. A party Ron Weasley has absolutely no hiskness being part of.

And yet he is. He should hate it, but he doesn't. Not really. Pansy smiles as she guides him along, grabbing something from a tray held by a passing waiter. "Try this."

It looks like a bunch of black balls in a nest of slime on top of a cracker. Ron's stomach churns violently at the sight of it. He takes a bite, nearly choking. Too salty. "That is disgusting."

Pansy laughs. "I suppose caviar is an acquired taste," she muses.

"You knew I would hate it. You just wanted me to suffer."

Instead of an answer, she just smirks and grabs two glasses of champagne. At least it's sweet enough to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

"It really doesn't bother you that I'm so…"

Ron trails off, searching for the right word. It's so easy to feel sorry for himself, to fall into self-pity. He forces himself not to go there.

"I don't fit in," he says after several moments of silence.

She smiles at him, resting her head on his shoulder for just a fraction of a second. "That's what I like about you. The blokes I grew up with?" She waves a dismissive hand. "But you? You're different. I like it."

"Aren't you a little old for teenage rebellion?" he teases.

"Dance with me."

And he does. He is awkward where she is graceful, but they make it work somehow. That's just how they are, really. They clash, and they shouldn't fit together at all, but they do, and somehow they make it work.

Maybe he doesn't belong here. Maybe he never will. But it doesn't matter. As long as Pansy is by his side, Ron will be okay. He will always feel right at home.

And that's all he really needs.


	90. Keep You Safe (ParvatiLavender)

_Word Count: 468_

* * *

Lavender tosses in her sleep. Parvati doesn't know if that's what wakes her or not. Since the war, neither of them have been able to sleep through the night. It's been three months, but the memories are still so fresh. She wonders if the pain ever really goes away. Padma tells her to have faith that the universe will sort things out; Parvati thinks the universe needs to get its shit together.

Lavender's soft whimpers change, made sharper by panic. "No!"

"Lavender? Lav, wake up!"

Lavender bolts upright, eyes wide with fear. "I'm bleeding!" she cries, frantically searching her scarred skin, like the wounds might have come open, like Greyback might have done more damage to her somehow.

"It's okay. It was just a dream."

Maybe that isn't quite right. Her own nightmares are rarely just silly monsters, dark figments of her imagination. Truth be told, she misses those days. It was such a simpler time when nightmares weren't memories, when a bad dream didn't mean having to relive the worst night of her life.

"He was there," Lavender whispers, and she says it over and over again. "Greyback, Parvati. He was there."

"He wasn't. Not this time."

She wishes her words could work some special magic, and Lavender would be okay again. All Parvati wants is to see her girlfriend happy. This isn't right. Lavender deserves something better, something more.

"Hey," Parvati says softly, brushing Lavender's curls away and tucking them behind her ear. She traces her fingers gently over the violet satin of Lavender's pajama top. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

Lavender purses her lips. "How?"

If only Parvari had the answer. She hates not being able to fix everything and take her girlfriend's pain away. "I don't know," she admits. "I'll help you. I know that much. You are so precious to me, Lav, and I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Immediately after the war, Lavender had desperately tried to push her away. Parvati had refused to give up. She will forever hold on to hope because that's all she knows to do anymore. It's a crazy world out there. The darkness is fading, but there's still so much grief and uncertainty.

But Lavender won't have to go through it alone. Parvati leans in, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "Let's go back to bed, okay? I promise I'll keep you safe. Nothing will harm you."

She can't make the nightmares stop, and she doesn't know how to take away the pain. It doesn't matter. She will do whatever it takes to make sure Lavender will be okay. There's no promise that it will get easier, but she will try.

As they lie back, sinking into the pillows, holding one another closer, Parvati finds herself smiling. There's hope for them after all.


	91. Take a Break (NevilleHannah)

_Word Count: 327_

* * *

By the time her husband enters the Leaky Cauldron, Hannah has already fantasized about quitting six times today. As the owner of the pub, she doubts it's that simple, of course. Still, there's something beautiful about the thought of just walking away and never coming back.

"I haven't seen you in so long," she says, and her words almost sound like a sob, emphasizing exactly how exhausted she is.

Neville snorts. "This is why you should listen to me," he teases. "I told you we ought to go somewhere for summer hols."

"Keep it up, and you're sleeping on the couch tonight," she warns, but her heart isn't in it. She can't even bring herself to sound annoyed; she just sounds tired, pitiful, ready to crawl into bed and forget the day.

"You wouldn't dare. Besides, I come bearing gifts." Neville lifts a pink bag, and Hannah recognizes it immediately. There's a new sweets shop in Diagon Alley. She's been meaning to check it out for ages, but she never seems to have time.

She opens it, and her heart melts. Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, all her favorites. Then there are things she doesn't recognize, specialties from the shop: brightly colored licorice, something drizzled in chocolate ganache, miniature ice cream cones with ice cream that doesn't melt.

Hannah bites the inside of her cheek. Neville has always been so good to her. She wonders how she ever got so lucky. Bad days are never so bad because he's always there with and warm smile and a kind gesture.

"I'm sorry for being grumpy," she says.

Neville takes a seat at the bar and shakes his head. He never calls her out on it, no matter how many bad days she has. Sometimes she thinks he's more of a Hufflepuff than she is.

She fixes him a butterbeer, offering him a smile. "You know," she says, "I think we really should take a holiday this summer."


	92. See You Again (Drastoria)

_Word Count: 697_

* * *

Scorpius doesn't stay by his side during the trek through the graveyard. Draco doesn't expect him to. Draco had lost his wife, but Scorpius had lost his mother.

Draco lingers by the gates, taking a deep breath. All he wants is to go home, to find Astoria still there, smiling and laughing because of course the past three years have been a dream. Of course she's been there all along, and he's only imagined these dreadful days without her.

Except he knows it isn't true. He can dream and wish all he wants, but there's no trading the truth for a happy fantasy. Astoria is gone; he remembers it all too well.

…

_Her skin is white as snow. Draco tries not to notice, but the color has been draining for the past several months. Now there's nothing left._

_The Healers say there's no hope. The illness is too far along, and all it can do is destroy. It's been a slow sort of destruction, and Astoria has rejected pain potions from the start. She had insisted that she wants to feel it, swearing that the pain reminds her that she isn't dead yet._

_"I yelled at Daphne the last time she was here," Astoria says, and her voice is soft and brittle, and Draco has to strain to hear her. "I should apologize to her."_

_"I'm sure she knows you didn't mean it."_

_Her eyes rest on him, and Draco feels that sharp stab of fear that has become so familiar to him. Will this be the last time she looks at him? Will he walk out of this room, only to discover it's his last moment with her?_

_"I should apologize to you. You don't get to come in someone's life, make them care, and then just check out," she says. "I'm sorry."_

_"Hush, love, hush."_

_She reaches out. Her arm is so skeletal. Paper-thin skin stretches across bones which jut out. More destruction. More pain. More things that Draco is powerless to fix._

_He doesn't remember what hope feels like. They've long since given up on cure, focusing instead on comfort. The illness has taken its toll and left her broken, a shell of the woman she once was._

_He takes her hand. Her skin is as cold as ice, but he doesn't let go._

_"Aren't you lucky? Having to look after me."_

_"I wouldn't trade it for the world," he whispers._

_And he means it. Draco remembers his younger years. He had been so selfish then, so concerned with himself and nothing else. Astoria changed that. Astoria loved him and helped him find his way after the war. How could he not look out for her now?_

_Astoria opens her mouth to say something, but her words are swallowed by a pained scream. She breathes in, out, in, but the rhythm is all wrong. It's jagged and rough, and he cannot fix this; all he can do is cling to her like it can make a difference somehow._

_"Please," he whispers. "Please don't leave like this."_

…

He finds Scorpius at Astoria's grave. By the time he reaches his son, Scoprius has already cleared away the clutter of the dead flowers and has started decorating.

"Do you think Mum will like it?" he asks, straightening the bouquet of sunflowers and placing the rabbit figurine beside the vase.

"She would love it," Draco assures him.

Scorpius smiles, and Draco is reminded so much of Astoria. When she would laugh, he swore there was no better sound, that that's all he needed to ensure that he never cries.

If someone had told him all those years ago that he would be standing here like this, he wouldn't have believed them. He would have been so sure that he and Astoria would last forever, that nothing could keep them apart.

But now she is gone. He will cling to the memories of the days before the sickness tore her apart, and he will cherish each one. This isn't the end. Not really. Their story does not end here.

He will continue his journey, and one day, when he reaches the end, he will see her again.


	93. Into Infinity (ChoPadma)

_Word Count: 454_

* * *

_This is progress_, Cho thinks, adjusting the straps of her hot pink gown.

She is still healing, still learning to move forward. This is such a big step for her, sitting beside Padma, her girlfriend, and watching Marietta get married. Padma squeezes her hand like she can read Cho's mind, like she somehow knows that Cho's heart is pounding so painfully in her chest.

"I love you," Padma whispers.

"A terrible mistake, really," Cho mutters back.

Her girlfriend snorts softly. She doesn't pull her hand away, and Cho is grateful. Maybe she's still adjusting, but Padma has been so patient through it all.

"Marietta looks lovely," Padma says.

Marietta stands before the groom, wearing a beautiful ivory gown. Cho had always assumed she would be married first; Cedric had only cemented that assumption. His death had been a terrible sort of wakeup call. Still, Marietta is gorgeous, and Cho is so happy for her friend.

"That can be us one day," Padma adds.

The words send a flicker of hope through her body, like a million butterflies are fluttering inside her stomach. She finds herself smiling. "Maybe one day."

…

Padma is a darling in sapphire. Cho can't help but stare as her girlfriend returns to their table, drinks in hand. Champagne for Cho, red wine for Padma.

"You are an actual vixen," Cho tells her. "It should be illegal for you to look that good."

Progress. How long has it been since she's been so openly affectionate? Too long, she's sure. But with Padma, it's the most natural thing in the world.

Padma considers this, lips pursing. "A vixen," she muses, sipping her wine. "What about a femme fatal? You know, dangerous, mysterious?"

So natural, like Cho is meant to do this, like she and Padma fit together, two puzzle pieces.

Cho chuckles, taking a drink of the champagne, enjoying the bubbly sweetness. "I don't think you're very dangerous."

Padma climbs to her feet, holding out her hand. "Oh yeah? Join me on the dance floor. I'll show you just how dangerous I can be."

Laughing, Cho sets her drink aside and allows Padma to lead her to the dance floor. Another step in the right direction, another way moving forward and allowing herself to be loved.

They dance, and she laughs and smiles through it all. Each step, each spin, each twirl. It's perfect, and she can't imagine doing anything else. She wants to spend the rest of her life with Padma, dancing, smiling, being so hopelessly in love.

Padma leans in, kissing her gently. "I love you, Cho."

"I love you too."

Cho is a work in progress, but that's okay. Padma is by her side, and nothing else really matters.


	94. Absolution (JamesNarcissa)

_Word Count: 558_

* * *

He's injured. James groans, his hand dropping to his side. It comes away slick with blood.

His wand… He needs his wand… His… anything.

But he cannot move. He slumps to the ground, not caring about the chill of the snow that stings even through his clothes, biting back a scream. Home is so close. If only he could get there. If only he could reach Lily.

Does she know? Does any of the Order know about this Death Eater attack in Godric's Hollow? He needs to warn them, needs to…

"Stay down, you idiot!"

He knows that voice. Even with the emerald green hood up and hiding the face, he would recognize Narcissa's voice anywhere. How many times, a lifetime ago, had they spoken, exchanging whispered promises about love and forever? In the end, she had broken his heart.

_"I'm so tired of this, Narcissa," he had yelled. "I'm so tired of not being enough for you."_

_She hadn't been angry, even when he had raised his voice. She had remained stoic though it all. "I cannot betray my family, my love."_

Narcissa lowers her head. Her cheeks are a soft rose in the biting winter wind. "Stay still," she instructs.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispers.

She purses her lips. There's a flicker of pain, and she looks away. For several seconds, she doesn't speak, just stares off composing herself. James almost laughs. Typical Black. Sirius is the same way, so afraid of showing emotion.

When she turns, however, there's still pain in her eyes. "I can save lives. That's enough reason to risk my own," she says, frowning. "Well… Save you. I'll do whatever it takes. This is my absolution."

She works in silence. Narcissa had always been a talented Healer. James thinks she could have done great things if Lucius Malfoy hadn't ruined it all. After all, Malfoy women are just pretty trophies. Nothing more. Why should a Malfoy have to work when she simply serves as a decoration.

He tries to focus on anything else, but Narcissa is distracting. His eyes return to her again and again, and he cannot look away. She is still so beautiful. His mind jumps to _what if_, and it breaks his heart.

"All done," she announces.

The pain is gone. His shirt is still saturated with blood, but he will live.

"You were wrong," he tells her, climbing shakily to his feet. "You could have betrayed your family."

She smiles bitterly. "I should have," she says with a sigh. "I think Andi is so much happier with her life than I am."

He takes her hand, stepping closer. He never stopped loving her, not really. There's always been that gnawing feeling in his gut, that bitter regret, knowing that he hadn't fought for her.

She kisses him, a quick, soft kiss. Her lips still fit perfectly with his, like they were meant to be.

But he cannot dwell on that. Not now. Not anymore. They have their own lives.

"I still love you," she tells him.

Before he can answer, there's an explosion somewhere in the background. The battle is waging, and he needs to find his wand.

"Take care of yourself, Cissa. Get to safety."

And with that, he walks away. Not for the first time, he feels like he's turning his back on his future.


	95. No More Dreaming (Tedromeda)

_Word count: 490_

* * *

The best part about the heat wave is that no one is on the beach, even as the sun begins to rise. It's not surprising. The morning is so hot that the sand beneath her bare feet feels like flames burning her skin. Andromeda winces, regretting her decision to leave her shoes behind.

"Perfect," Ted decides, laying out a beach towel. He adjusts the umbrella and sits, gesturing for Andromeda to join him.

She follows, stretching out her long legs. The sky is brilliant with its red and orange streaks combatting the darkness as night retreats. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she whispers.

Ted chuckles. "So why do you look so guilty?"

Andromeda bites her lip. For several seconds, she's silent, unsure of how to explain it. Finally, she sighs and shakes her head. "This is pretty major," she points out. "Stealing moments at Hogwarts is one thing. But this?"

Her mother will wake soon and find that Andromeda isn't in her bed. Her father will yell and rage. Maybe Narcissa will suspect where Andromeda is. Will she tell? The two have never been terribly close, not like Andromeda and Bellatrix.

"Sugar Quill?"

She almost laughs. This is just another day for him. Of course Ted can sit there, enjoying his favorite sweet, unaware of how serious it all is.

"I'm a bloody coward," she says, and she accepts the Sugar Quill. "I love you, but I'm terrified of what my family will say."

Ted leans in, wrapping an arm around her. "I don't think you're a coward. You just grew up thinking people like us couldn't live in harmony," he says. "Never, in a million years, would you have imagined that we could fall in love."

But she had. Andromeda thinks she might have loved Ted long before they had ever spoken to her. She had seen him in the corridors, and her imagination had run wild. Before they had even met, she had pictured a future together.

"What if it didn't have to be a dream?" he asks. "What if you and I could just come to the beach, enjoy the weather, and it not have to worry about anything else?"

She almost laughs. It's nice to think about, but it's impossible. This is her life, like it or not. She has to do what is expected.

Except maybe she doesn't. Maybe she can find a way to do something more. She's dreamt of finding her own path, of living her own life. Is it possible that she can do that now?

"It could be you and me forever," he adds.

The word should scare her. Forever is a long time, but maybe that's okay. Maybe she wouldn't mind spending it with him.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" Andromeda whispers.

"Yes. Will you?"

No more imagining it. No more fantasies about a future. Now is the time to live it.

"I will."


	96. Weird Together (Scorose)

_Word Count: 433_

* * *

Rose grips the kite in her hands, practically bouncing with excitement. Albus says he and Scorpius will join her soon, and Hugo wants to wait for Lucy and Molly to arrive, but Rose has always been too impatient. It's such a beautiful spring day, and she has no intention of spending even a minute more inside than she has to!

She walks around Uncle Harry's house, ready to get to the little field behind it, when she stops. The bathroom window is cracked; it never closes quite right, which she assumes is James' fault. The window isn't what causes her to pause. From inside the bathroom, she hears singing, loud and off-key.

It's cute, really. There's something about the shower that makes people really open up. She wonders if Scorpius would feel comfortable singing so openly. Probably not.

From within, she hears the shower cut off. The singing stops. Unable to resist, she begins to clap. "Bravo!" she cheers. "Encore!"

There's the sound of frantic shuffling and scurrying. A moment later, Scorpius appears at the window. His cheeks are a dark pink when he opens it. "You could hear me?"

"Such an emotional rendition," she tells him. "Exceptional! Absolutely incredible."

His blush only darkens. He closes the window again, disappearing from view.

…

It's strange, really. There's something about that moment, about hearing Scorpius sing, that makes Rose unable to stop looking at him. Has he always been so handsome? He is a vision in his lemon yellow button-up shirt.

"Hey, Scor?" She moves beside him, watching as Lucy takes off running with her kite.

"I don't want to look at you right now," Scorpius grumbles.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," she says. "I thought it was cute. Really cute."

He scoffs. "You don't… I don't want you to think I'm abnormal." Scorpius folds his arms over his chest, still refusing to look at her. "I mean, I don't want anyone to think that of me, but especially not you."

"Why not me?"

"Come on, Rose? Isn't it obvious?"

She's noticed, of course. How could she not. She's stared at him, noticed every little detail about him. Sometimes she's caught him staring too, though he's always been more shy about it.

Rose smiles at that. She stretches her arms, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on her skin. "I don't mind if you're weird," she tells him. "Want to be weird together?"

Scorpius doesn't answer straight away. He stares at her like he's waiting for the punchline. After several tense moments, he nods and holds out his hand. "I would love that."


	97. With You (DeanPansy)

_Word Count: 507_

* * *

He isn't surprised to find Pansy alone atop the Astronomy Tower. Once, what seems like a lifetime ago, this had been their spot. It's private enough, hidden away from prying eyes, hidden away enough that her reputation stays intact.

Dean hesitates. She's crying, and it breaks his heart more than he could ever say. Has she been up here, alone and miserable and broken, this whole time? Below, the others are working to repair the castle; he's been at it for five hours now and has only just decided to sneak away for a break.

"It's rude to just stare," Pansy snaps, startling Dean.

"Well, excuse me," he says, moving closer and sitting beside her. "My heart hurts whenever I see a beautiful girl crying."

She scoffs, but he can see the faintest hint of a blush heat her cheeks. Under ordinary circumstances, she might have even smiled.

"Sorry I almost killed you," she whispers. "Or… Well… Got you killed."

There's a look of guilt in her dark eyes. This must have been eating away at her since the battle the previous week. He knows she's made mistakes, and the world is not quick to forgive her. But he does. He knows that Pansy isn't a bad person, that she had only done what was expected of her.

He takes her hand, squeezing gently. "You're doing everything you can," he tells her. "I'm here if you need me. I'm not going anywhere."

"You shouldn't waste your time." She shakes her head and pulls her hand away, wiping her eyes. "I'm not worth it."

"Hush. I love you, Pansy."

He's felt it for so long, but he's never voiced it aloud. But there's a reason his time on the run had been punctuated by bursts of artistic inspiration, a reason his sketchbook is filled with her face. She had given him peace and hope while he had been away; he isn't going to just let her suffer now.

Dean wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. When she doesn't try to pull away, he takes it as an unspoken sign, silent confirmation that this is okay, and he envelops her in a hug, holding her close.

"I love you too," she says after several moments have passed.

He laughs, relief heavy in the sound. "Good. Because this might have been extremely awkward otherwise."

They stay like that for a while. Dean doesn't know how much time passes, only that the moment is perfect. The silence isn't tense and uncomfortable; it's calm, natural, peaceful. Holding Pansy makes him feel like maybe it had all been worth it. They are alive, and they have a future before them. That's all that matters.

"I could use a drink," he says. "Care to join me?"

"What will they say about… About me?"

He just smiles and climbs to his feet, helping her up as well. "Come on. It doesn't matter. You're with me."

She wraps an arm around him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm with you," she agrees.


	98. Stay In Bed (PiersDudley)

Word Count: 432

* * *

Piers opens his eyes with a yawn, and he is greeted by the soft sound of rain splattering against the glass, and the smell of breakfast cooking. A satisfied smile tugs at his lips. How could he have gotten so lucky?

It seems almost too good to be true, like the universe will remember what he's done and take it all away at any moment. He doesn't deserve this. Maybe neither do. They've both been so cruel for so long. Is a change of heart really enough?

He shakes his head. There's no point dwelling on it now. This is their life now. They have gone from strangers, to friends, to stealing kisses and being so afraid that someone may see, to this. Living their truth without fear. Being so hopelessly and unapologetically in love.

His cousin hadn't cared, of course. Given that Max is gay, he would have been a horrible hypocrite if he had a problem with it. The Dursleys, on the other hand… Petunia had cried; she still talks to Dudley, but she is careful about it because Vernon… Vernon had screamed and raged and thrown things, swearing that he no longer had a son.

And Piers had stood there through it all, holding his boyfriend's hand and telling him it would be okay.

The door opens, and Dudley comes in, carrying a silver tray. "Is this love?" Piers asks, breathing in the mouthwatering aroma. "Oh, I think it really might be."

Dudley snorts, setting the tray down and climbing back into bed. "If you're just now figuring out that it's love… No offense, but you're an idiot."

Piers just grins and takes his plate. Dudley isn't the best cook, but that makes this all more special. The eggs are cooked perfectly. The sausages are burnt, but they're still edible. The toast is barely toasted and is far too soft to be considered toast. Still, Piers eats with a smile.

"I was thinking we could stay in today," Dudley says. "Well. Most of it. I'm off. You don't go in until four. What better way to spend a rainy day than curled up in bed, watching some telly?"

"It's a date."

They have come a long way to get here. Both have had to break and rebuild themselves. They've had to learn and grow and be better. Sometimes Piers worries it isn't enough, that he doesn't deserve happiness.

But then there are days like this. The stars align, and everything is perfect beyond words. Nothing else really matters, and they are here, falling in love.

And that is enough.


	99. The New Normal (DudleyCho)

Word Count: 460

* * *

It's okay, Dudley tells himself after he's had time to clear his head. It isn't the end of the world.

He hesitates outside the house, guilt souring his stomach. He shouldn't have walked off. All Cho had done was tell him the truth. Why is there still a part of him that fears magic?

No. That isn't it. It had just been a shock. He doesn't care that she's a witch. Cho is still the same woman he knows and loves. Nothing is going to change that.

Except now he's terrified he might have ruined things.

He steps inside, clutching the box tightly. "Cho?"

She's sitting at the kitchen table, and she looks exhausted. The guilt grows heavier. He really messed things up. She's been crying, and Dudley had sworn he would never make her cry.

"I brought gifts," he says, opening the box to reveal the cupcakes within. Chocolate on chocolate, her favorite. "I… Look, Cho… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off like that."

She offers him a smile. It isn't the genuine smile he knows and loves. This is a a sad quirk of the lips, one that doesn't quite meet her eyes. "So you have your reasons," she says. "I get it. I just…"

"No. You did everything right." He takes a seat across from her, plucking a cupcake from the box and taking a bite. "I… My parents raised me to hate magic. But that changed even before I met you. It just took my surprise, and I… I was dumb and scared."

"You know I'm not going to curse you, right? Nothing to be scared of."

Dudley shudders. He still remains the pig tail that giant man had given him all those years ago. To be fair, he had deserved it; he had been an insufferable asshole in his youth. "I know," he assures her.

Silence hangs between them. Part of Dudley expects her to throw him out and tell him it isn't going to work out after all. He braces himself for the fallout, but it doesn't come.

Cho breaks the silence with a laugh, and the sound is soft and sweet, and Dudley knows everything is going to be okay now. "Looks like weird is the new normal," she muses, taking a cupcake from the box and biting into it. Her smile is more genuine as a content sigh escapes her lips.

Dudley nods his agreement. Maybe that's a good thing, and normal is overrated anyway. God knows he loves Cho, and he doesn't think anything will ever change that.

"Cheers," he says, lifting his cupcake in a mock "toast". "May we have many years of weirdness together."

Cho laughs and taps her cupcake against his. "I would be okay with that."


	100. Spring's Return (TeddyVictoire)

_Word Count: 328_

* * *

Teddy breathes in the cold December air, adjusting his scarf to cover the last sliver of exposed skin and protect it from the snow that continues to fall. Snow crunches beneath his shoes, and he finds himself smiling. This is his favorite weather. Victoire, on the other hand...

"It's awful, isn't it?" Victoire appears at his side when he nears the Black Lake.

Teddy laughs softly and turns to look at his girlfriend. Just seeing her fills him with a warmth that defies the frozen landscape around them. "I was just thinking about you."

She grins and prods a slender finger into his side. "You're always thinking about me," she teases before huffing and pulling her coat a little tighter. "It's so gross and dreary. No color. I miss spring."

Teddy nods because he understands. He has seen how alive she becomes when the flowers bloom. The two of them have spent much of their youth in the meadow near Shell Cottage, basking in the soft, golden sunlight, Teddy lounging lazily while Victoire picks flowers and crafts crowns with a skill and grace he could never manage.

He doesn't really think about it. Maybe it's just natural because he understands Victoire so well. His hair changes from the neutral, mousy brown hair that resembles his grandmother's to a soft green that recalls a gentle spring landscape.

Victoire giggles, wrapping an arm around her. "Much better," she decides, nodding her approval as she snuggles a little closer into his side.

"Anything for you," he says.

And he means it. He would give anything to keep Victoire smiling.

She pauses, and he falls into place beside her. "You're perfect," she says. "Do you know that?"

He snorts. "I'm hardly that."

"You're perfect for me."

With that, she kisses him, and Teddy finds himself smiling against her lips. Maybe it's cold and dismal outside, but he barely notices it at all. Whenever Victoire is with him, it's like spring has returned.


End file.
